On turning 54

Photo collage of me in my teens, 20s, 30s, 40s and 50s.

Age never bothered me until my mid-40s. 

My 20s literally rocked!!!
I spent most of the decade going with Holly to local, regional, and national heavy metal concerts.

My Friend Holly – 1987-ish

My 30s was the absolute BEST decade of my entire life. 
I was beautiful, healthy, had just bought my own house after my first divorce, and spent most of the decade hanging out with Amys
3 at hockey games and was having an absolute ball!


Me (left) and two of the three Amys – 1998-ish

My 40s is when it all became too real for me. 
I had just bought my own little 5 acre farm and had put up pasture fences, moved my horses in from London, Ohio, built a chicken shed and added a bunch of really awesome chickens, hand-raised two day-old peacocks, bought myself a John Deere tractor and was living the dream life I had always wanted since I was a little girl.

Life was beautiful. 
I could wake up and see my horses through my bedroom window every morning.  My two peacocks – Pete and RePete – were growing like crazy and were so spoiled that they would come peck on the sliding glass patio doors when they wanted to come into the house.  My hens were laying stellar eggs, which I collected every morning, and my dogs could run free as the wind and were also having the time of their lives.

Then cancer! 
I have to tell you, the chemotherapy and other treatments were absolutely preferable to the financial disaster the disease caused.  I lost my farm because I couldn’t keep up with my mortgage.  I had to find homes for my horses, my chickens, my peacocks, and my dogs, and it was so terribly upsetting to lose everything I had worked for since I was a child.  Then I moved back to the city to live with my second husband at his sister’s home until we got back on our feet financially.  Ugh!

All of that has come to pass.
I got divorced, had a great job, and was once again becoming financially stable.

Then, cancer again!
Fortunately, this time I had much better health insurance, was on my own, and had three wonderful nieces that took excellent care of me while I was laid up for six weeks. Once again, I’m in remission.

So, here I am having just turned 54 years old yesterday.  I don’t know what the future holds as far as any recurrence, but it is more than likely to happen.  So, I am making a huge, conscious effort to not miss another minute of my life.  Thanks to my awesome job, I am now financially secure and I have been travelling a lot, having tons of fun with my nieces and my friends, and enjoying the finer things in life!

Here’s to another year, my friends!


My Birthday Weekend!

My birthday weekend was absolutely fantastic!

I got to:

  • see my friend Bridgette in Cincinnati;
  • see Star Wars: The Last Jedi;
  • see Jeff Dunham: Passively Aggressive; and
  • hang out with my awesome nieces.

For my own self, I:

  • got my haircut;
  • got my eyebrows waxed;
  • got a scalp massage; and
  • got a new some new ink.

Me and my girl, Raven, 2001. I miss her so very much! She is now immortalized on my ribs.

In general:

  • I took Friday off work and got to sleep in a while,
  • played around with some of my crafty things;
  • visited my Mom for her 95th birthday; and
  • and basically had an awesome 3-day weekend.


Bridgette and I acting completely stupid with the help of SnapChat filters!







Finally Friday – 1/26/18 – What’s on Tap?


So, Finally Fridayis going to be a regular series here on Six Months @ A Time.
On Finally Friday, we will share what is on tap for the weekend!

So this Sunday – January 28 – is my 54th birthday! 

My birthday weekend is actually STARTING on Friday this week because I am taking Friday off of work:

1) because Friday is my Mom’s 95th birthday, so I plan to spend some of the morning with her; and

2) to spend Friday night in Cincinnati with my friend Bridgette.  We are going to dinner and then to see the new Star Wars movie (yes, I know – I’m late).

Saturday I will be driving home from Cincinnati in the morning and then going with Kelsey to her tattoo appointment in the afternoon.  She has booked a half-day appointment (3 hours) so if there is any time left, Carmelo said he’d do some more ink on me!  WOO HOO potential birthday ink!

On Sunday – my actual birthday – Tammy, Tracey, Kelsey and I are going to see Jeff Dunham at The Schottenstein Center!  I hope he brings Achmed and Walter!  My two favs!



Happy Birthday, Momma!


My Mother!  95 Years Old today!
She was born in 1923, lived through the Great Depression, World War II, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, and “Make Love, Not War.”

She outlived her son David, her daughter Carole, her husband Lou, her brother Paul, and both her parents.

She soldiered on through my bratty elementary years, then my completely rampant teenage years.  I was a precocious child, and a wild teenager (in my defense, I was a preacher’s kid – I HAD to be wild!  It was prerogative!)  Case in point.  I must have been about four years old, and my mother sat a bowl of soup down in front of me, giving me the motherly warning, “be careful, it’s hot.”  Me, being the spoiled, mouthy child I was, exclaimed haughtily, “it’s NOT hot!”  Then, I proceeded to put a spoonful in my mouth and burn my tongue; to which I exclaimed, “it’s warm though!”

She rolled her eyes and yelled for a good while every time I brought some new animal home.  Dogs, cats, horses, ferrets, gerbils, birds, frogs, snakes, newts, fish, mice, rabbits, rats, hamsters, guinea pigs, and more.

She should have headed the warning she received early on that her home would be a constant influx of beasts when at two years old I asked her for a pet bird and she slyly told me that if I can catch one I could keep it — never in a million years guessing that I would actually do so.  But, one morning, in through the back door I toddled with a fledgling Robin that had just fallen out of its nest.  Of course, she didn’t let me keep it – something about lice and other grotesque propositions – and my world crumbled because she had “lied to me.”

She drove me to and from my riding lessons, dusted me off when a horse would buck me off, or when I would face plant when being unbalanced in my 2-point position over a three-foot vertical or oxer.

She planned the most awesome birthday parties for me, made crafts with me, caught butterflies with me, signed me up for summer-long classes at the Dayton Museum of Natural History (now Boonshoft Museum of Discovery)  (my most awesome summers EVER), and took me grocery shopping with her.

She also yelled at me, reprimanded me, and grounded me when I needed it; and somehow managed to not choke me out in my sleep.

I’m fairly certain it is from her that I got my loud mouth.  My father was the preacher at a small country church in the middle of nowhere – literally!  Corn fields in front, bean fields behind, and vice versa for crop rotation purposes.  We lived in the parsonage next to the church building.  One of the Elders and his family lived on the other side of us.  Small country homes and farm houses progressed sparsely up our street in a manner in which you could probably fit 2 or 3 more houses in between each.

One morning I apparently wasn’t feeding my rabbits fast enough for her and she was standing on the back porch just telling me about myself.

A few minutes later, I boarded the little country school bus, which then picked up David Gorman next door, before stopping three more houses down to pick up Mary Neatherton.  Mary boarded the bus and we always sat together.  This day, she boarded the bus just laughing her head off.  I asked her what was so funny, and she said she and her mom were standing out in the yard waiting for the bus when her mother looked at her and said, “Is that the preacher’s wife down there cussing like a sailor?”  It’s true.  I’m still not sure to this day that my name isn’t really Dammit Anyhow Lowery.

Don’t get me wrong, though.  She was an awesome Mom!  She fed us, kept a clean house, took great care of me and dad, doted on me when I was sick, and loved to laugh.  At everything.  She’s hilarious and quick witted.  She has the dry, sarcastic wit that I’m so famous for.  Guess that’s where I get it from.

I can never in my 54 years remember that woman EVER being sick – like cold or flu sick.  I remember her getting food poisoning once from a bad fast food breakfast burrito, but never random illness.  I’m sure she did, but she would never let that stop her or let us know she didn’t feel well.

She had a hip replacement in her early 80s and a heart valve replaced in her late 80s, but that is all I can ever remember of her being down for any amount of time.

She is now in a wheelchair on the skilled nursing floor of the facility where she lives.  She loves the place, but says she’s bored out of her mind.  They take great care of her and I know she is safe and well looked after.

Her mind is hit or miss.  Most days she’ll ask you the same question 5 times, and I just answer her every time like it’s the very first time she’s ever asked.  She can, however, remember crap that happened 30 or 40 years ago with so much detail and clarity.

At 95, she’s still an awesome mom, even though it’s me taking care of her, and I love her more than anything.

Mom and Val and MacKenzie and Ashley – July 2017



Here is my mom receiving a Jefferson Award for volunteer service – 2000-ish?