Nothing Cute For A Title

Christmas has come and gone. It was very different for me this year as I did not have the money to buy gifts for more than one person. As much as it is in my control, I plan to make that different for next year. It really isn't the idea of not giving a gift. It is the idea that I do enjoy that part of Christmas. Still, I finally found my Christmas spirit, the family had a brunch together and everyone was on their best behavior.

Fairly dull description of Christmas I guess. I think staying out of the stores, not going out to eat, not spending money that I don't have and having a small world made Christmas different. Not bad. Different. I have been marginally emotionally numb for awhile now. I can call it that or I can call it denial of depression deeper than I believed or I can call it life on it's own terms. No matter the name I can say as a fact that I struggled in the past month or so with a dull spot in my heart and in my head. It grew to become a large and exceptionally sensitive place in my head and in my heart. I returned to old behavior. Have worn a chip on my shoulder along with an inability to cope with life on its own terms. God graced me a number of times during this period of time. He graced me in ways that encouraged me and in small ways were filled with tenderness.

As a result I have come out the other side of the most recent funk. I am enjoying balance and a sense of peace that is unexplainable, surreal, holy - a gift. A Christmas gift from my Father perfectly made just for me. Perfect timing. Perfect gift. A daily repreive from myself sets me free indeed.

GEE WHIZ!

This is weird. I am doing the blog on my ipad while following work on the desktop. I keep looking up at the desktop to see if what I am typing here is showing up. My mind may be a strange and wondrous place but apparently it does not like this action.
It is 73 degrees here. Cloudy with a breeze creating the illusion of colder weather. Christmas is a few days away. I am the least prepared I have been in many years. Well, that is a statement tied into my financial situation. Christmas spirit is cool. I don't decorate as a rule. Always did when the kids were home and enjoyed it. This year we have, through some weakness in my character, three cats. A tree is not part of my plan to entertain them. Maybe I should decorate the cats?? Dial 911!
The baby still has his manhood. He struts and plays with an intensity that is a wonder to see. Folding laundry is different these days. This kitten believes each shirt, towel, sock, etc. is his ticket to rumble and he is FAST! That little ball of fire with the awesome eyes and lovely coloring is also capable of stinking us out of the house. He gives "silent but deadly" an entirely new meaning! It is close to atomic cat war.
Winter is one of my favorite times of the year. I curl up in a warm blanket on the sofa and veg. Winter requires very little of me. For many years I was a sun baby. I sunbathed on the beach without benefit of towel. I loved the warm sand against my body. I was deeply tan each year. Years passed. My body no longer tolerates the heat well. I have no idea why. I am reminded of a good marriage that quietly and slowly loses vitality until there is no comfort or warmth to be found. Now I gaze up at the night sky shivering slightly from the chilled breezes and I am happy. I am a night person.  The darkness comforts me. The moon and stars hypnotize me. God is real. His heavens are majestic. I am humbled. My soul magnifies The Lord.

Not a strange day!

Today was not a strange day which makes today a rare day indeed. I planned to clean house. Well, I planned to begin the huge, overwhelming job of trying to put things in order. Yeah, very funny, I  know! But, first, breakfast with a favorite friend and then a little time watching the tube with my husband and then I said to myself, "Self, start in your room and work towards the front of this funky place."
I sat down at my desk, pulled a drawer open and changed both focus and intent. The desk drawer is a micro level thing to put in order. So I started with my desk drawer. Yep, the freaking place is a mess and I start and basically end with a desk drawer. I tell a lie. I did not end. I stopped. The arguable pleasure of putting things back into the drawer has yet to be completed. Battery chargers, jewelry, various electronic cords, prayer beads, measuring tape, fancy paper clips, cd's, a bar of dove soap, at least 8 spools of thread, mirror mounting squares, change and a bottle of It Stays for helping my old lady hose stay up when I wear them. Plus, a significant amount of throw away papers, and a number of unidentifiable, small hook looking thingies from Body Glove. So now my room is trashed. Honestly trashed. The bathroom is waiting for me. One small step for...!

I have to sleep. Good Night!        

Vignettes Of The Day

5:37 am  working an early shift. Making a cup of tea. I notice a tiny ant climbing up the refrigerator door. I reach to end his life acting on impulse as if responding to a long held tradition. I pulled my hand back. It was just one ant traveling alone up the side of the door. Who am I to choose the fate of his journey? He has chosen an arduous journey. I turn my attention to the tea I am making. When I look back the tiny ant is gone. I hoped to send him a thought of  Bon Voyage.  The stark whiteness of the refrigerator could not hide him. He was gone. Maybe he lost purchase and fell to the floor or maybe he was there for a moment to provide me with the opportunity to honor life. Who's to say?

THURSDAY? REALLY?

I cannot believe it is almost Christmas. I didn't even know it was Thursday. But, a look at the calendar confirms it is Thursday. Officially it is Friday. DANG!! Slow down just a little bit, please!

Robert and I went to the doctor in New Bern today. He prescribes meds for depression. He was shocked at how quickly Robert's condition has progressed. I say condition because we have yet to have a diagnosis. In the past two days we have been heartened by the response of the medical people we have seen. It is clear they recognize the severity of the situation and that they truly care. Though nothing has changed physically the response of the medical professionals has encouraged us. We both needed to be heard and validated. It was a difficult trip. Robert is not walking well at all so I help him in and out of the car and then help him make it to our destination. It is taxing for him and exhausting for me. When someone says to most of us that things can and probably will change in ways we cannot think or imagine they are telling the truth. I have no previous experience in this level of caretaking and Robert certainly has not been limited physically and mentally to the degree this "whatever" has taken him.

Home health care is going to come out and help us find ways to make the house more user friendly for someone like Robert. This means that I have major cleaning to do before they make a visit. Fortunately that has not been set-up yet. I don't' feel grown-up enough to handle all of this but when I look around I realize that many people are handling stuff like this and I'm betting they don't feel so grown-up at times. Because I am 62 years of age I am more aware now of debilitating illnessess and the fullness of caretaking.

Guess who is in my bedroom staying warm from the cold night? Yep, the outside cat. Tigger! Beautiful orange and golden cat with eyes that look like jewels matching the coat he wears so well. It isn't my plan to make this cat and inside cat. We don't need four cats inside. Lawdy, lawdy! I am a soft touch.

Gotta get to bed. Night, Y'all!

A Day In The Life Of...

Started my morning at 6. Needed to be at work by 7. My husband is having major health issues, can't walk for much time at all, cannot think clearly most of the time, symptoms are increasingly intense so I help him walk, get his food, etc. Normally he is still in bed when I leave early in the a.m. but today he was awake and trying to do for himself and nearly falling. It is sad. It is frustrating. It is challenging. It is scary. So I got him to the sofa, gave him his medications, fixed him coffee and made his breakfast, fed the inside cats, fed the outside cat, cleaned the litter box, grabbed some clothes to put on later at mom's while I was working, grabbed the box with my meds and stuff and headed out the door sliding into my chair at the computer just in time to start work at 7. God was with me. Everything went in order. The neighbors are, by now, use to seeing me scuttle through the park in my pajamas clutching a box, pants, shirt and pocketbook. Today I never got out of the clothes I wore to mom's. So I have a clean outfit for tomorrow. I start work at 3:30 a.m. Had to change my hours around because I am taking Robert to the doctor's and begin the process of getting something done to help this man. I could use your prayers, please.
So...I have never been this way before. It is a path unknown to me. I am learning by doing which means Robert gets handled in some interesting ways. He is losing the ability to help himself help me. Today he fell in the kitchen and was on the floor when I got home. I had to wait until my son was at his house to have someone to help lift Robert so I got him a pillow and a blanket for comfort. When Jonathan got here we started to help Robert get up and I, not thinking, pulled the pillow out from under Robert's head and it fell back and hit the fridge. I forgot he could not manage to hold his head up. Ouch!
The job is quickly becoming above and beyond my ability to handle it. Believe it or not this started about three years ago when Robert began to complain that his legs felt weak while he was fishing on the pier. It has been a slow degenration from that point to this point. Robert being Robert he did not seek medical care until it became obvious that there was no other choice to make. At this point I am not sure how I am going to get him in the car and to the doctor's office tomorrow. Thank goodness for the many prayers being said on our behalf.
On another topic entirely...have not seen Mr. Owl in a long time now. They are industrializing the area behind our park more and more. He may have left in a huff looking, literally, for greener pastures.
The cats are prowling back and forth. How do they know I have tuna in a can? They cannot possibly smell it. There are times when I think cats are mind-readers or they are arrogant enough to believe that it is perfectly natural for me to buy tuna in a can for their treat meat. Probably sent me subliminal thoughts before I left for the store. Harumph! I am so busted with these animals.
Robert is in bed comfortably now, the cats are catting around and I am getting my stuff and heading to my mom's to catch a few z's before 3:30 a.m.
Has anyone noticed that time seems to be flying; the days speeding  in a blur of events? Moments filled to the brim with life happening as I head rapidly for my 30th year of sobriety and my millionth year of life on this earth. Really? Has it only been a million years? O.K. my "the earth is not a million years old "friends. Figuratively speaking, o.k.?

Trudging The Happy Road of Destiny One Step At A Time! Welcome To My Place!

I decided to start tonight rather than wait for tomorrow. Just a bit of writing to shake the dust off the old blog page and breathe a bit of life back into it. If you click on the Grateful Dead and listen and want to hear more just stay on the page. Apparently I copied a grouping of their music or the album or something...anyhow...you can rock out if you have a mind to rock!

                                               

"When you said there was a possum playing

dead in our yard I assumed...."                         



My Apologies

I have not revisited this chat in the better part of a month. My life has been in a crazy place and I have found myself at a lack for words. That in itself is a miracle. I do not promise that I willl post here often for the next couple of months. It would be lovely if those of you who do view this blog check back once in awhile. I tend to run in dashes and sudden stops when it comes to writing. I know I stated well back in this blog that I am writing for writing's sake but I did feel some comfort in those of you who were reading my posts and also a responsibility to write something for that reason. In truth that may be the main reason I fell away as I did this past month. My nature is perverse when faced with the option of being noticed as opposed to out of sight. I proclaim that I do not care a fig if anyone reads what I am writing when an absolute fool would know that can't be all true else why write at all. On the flip side, the idea of being visible and the process of feeling a responsibility to write so as not to disappoint or to lose those viewing brings me slowly to a complete halt. I, in an inexplicable way, avoid the writing day after day for a reason I cannot define. It is my version of the "come here, go away" personality trait. Dancing with others in my mind while writing followed by a distinct distaste for dancing or the company of others is a micrcosm of my natural bent in daily life. Yes, I am glad to see you. Yes, what a lovely time. No, I won't be staying. No, i won't be back for quite some time. As time passes the cycle begins again with the craving to mingle and share myself with others increasing in intensity while, simultaneously, the need to get away begins to build in me.
Just as the dance begins I begin to plan my escape. And so it is with my writing here. I will be back, could be tomorrow, could be next month. The one truth is that I shall be back and with the typing of the first word I shall also be leaving again.

Today is a holiday. It has been raining since early this morning except for a brief respite which, if the thunder in the background is a good indicator, is about to end. I woke up with big plans of accomplishing tasks here at home. Tasks need to be accomplished. I am one degree away from being void of the necessary skills for domesticity. One more genetic trait bequeathed on me by my paternal grandmother. Delitha, her name, was a force to reckoned with in her own right. She was not a housekeeper. She stayed home, cooked huge meals for tobacco crews coming in for lunch, maintained all the tasks keeping hearth and home together but did not seem to possess a decorating skill or a will to be unnecessarily clean in her housekeeping. I will yield to the fact that Delitha had, for most of my life, a garden, chickens, pigs and other responsibilities that I cannot pleasd to support my position on housekeeping. Nevertheless it cannot be denied that genetically I am aligned with her in important ways, eccentric ways, intellectual ability, and I do have her boobs, belly, butt and sway in my back due to scoliosis. My sense of humor came from the other side of the genetic gene pool as did the fact that I look younger than my years. I much prefer writing to making the bed, putting up clothing, cleaning the bathroom, oh dear, the list is long. Writing this out brought me to my senses. I am going to accomplish a task or two. I will return later to heap large measures of praise on myself.

Yeah, it is late! Wanna make something of it?

At 1:31 a.m. I need to assert a bit of aggression to help me believe I will make it through the day. Today turned into a slow marathon. Computer problems in the morning when I was working turned into unsurmountable mountains by the time I was scheduled to work in the afternoon. Around 3:00 p.m. I contacted the tech support for the company providing internet service. They were great! Problem was that this darling computer had a number of something called toolkit viruses. By the time the tech ran all the tests, malware, scanned every single item in the computer and then got rid of the viruses it was after 11:00 p.m. Who knew? This meant I missed three hours of scheduled work which is not good for my stats, no one took them when I placed them up for trade and I had no time to sleep before my 2 a.m. shift. I failed to mention that the anti-virus put on the computer by the internet provider tech thought all of my work related programs had viruses so I had to call the work techies and ask them to help. Clock kept ticking. Mission accomplished!

Now for the toolkit virus and the insidious way it operates. When someone downloads the newest Acrobat version from the Acrobat site there is frequently a download for something like Google Chrome. There is a box that asks if you would like it to download it also. The box is checked. If you or I do not notice that detail then Google Chrome will download along with the Acrobat update download. Fortunately Google  Chrome is not a bad download though it is irritating to have it show up when you had no idea it was piggybacking on the Acrobat download. Other sites, though, do not have such friendly downloads piggybacking on them. So, when downloading it is important to carefully check for downloads that will come along with the download we want for ourselves. I had about 6 tag along when trying to download something for my grandson. I had all sorts of things going on and it took me forever to finally uninstall those rascals. I may have a virus or 20 from times like that so take a page out of my playbook and check carefully for these rascals looking to hitch a ride with your download. The tech says these virsuses work their way into the system files. Makes for some pretty nasty stuff going on with the puter when they finally show themselves. Fortunately my mom pays money every month to have the tech support so all 7 or 8 hours of tech support were free. I cannot imagine what it would have cost by the hour.

This is why I am pulling an all-nighter. The best laid plans of mice and men and all those kind of sayings. I have something to say to all my online co-workers who have been whining about not getting enough work hours. I tried to give away three hours today and not one of those people took those hours. I want them to whine next week when hours come out. I'm gonna lay in wait for them and sideswipe them in the chat room. Know why? Just because I can.

Well, the bell is about to toll for me. Hopefully I will not get multiple calls from India tonight. I don't have anything against India. I can't understand them. Spelling their names is tough no matter how slowly they spell them. Oh, I would prefer not to get too many from China also. Again, not for lack of love, but for lack of understanding Mandarin Chinese with a little bit of English mixed throughout. O.K. I am becoming one of those whiny people. Grateful to have a job I am. TTFN

Writing While The Sun Is Up!

In the spirit of going to bed on time and modeling the ability to change inherent behavior patterns I am writing during the day. Late at night I believe I am clever. My defenses are down. I ramble on with, what again, I believe, is a ramble enhanced by the hour and exhaustion. Ridiculous in perspective. No different from the perception that all writers are eccentric, depressed, driven by internal urges unknown to the masses...yada, yada, yada.

The truth, as I see it today, is that writing and writing well requires me to....get ready for the surprise....WRITE! Practice, practice, practice. Oh drudgery! My spirit resists the bit in the mouth vision of practice. My dream is to be a successful, respected, and yes, eccentric writer simply because I write freely, unfettered by convention, grammar, plot, plan, characters and the like. Yes, I want to achieve my dreams without the detritus of the word, "achieve". Achieve implies doing what I do in progression. Reaching for the stars by first standing on a bucket, a ladder, a barn top, the top of a tall building until, attempt after attempt I am among the stars. Ever the arrogant, self-centered sober alcoholic, I believe there will come a moment when inspiration will fling itself on me, rush through my brain to my fingers and write as if I have been writing for years and years. People will gasp. Intellectuals will ponder. Friends will glow in joy for my success. (sounds just like the little boy who wants the BB gun for Christmas, you know, the movie I can never remember the name of). He fought off Bad Bart and his crowd with his BB gun.

In reality he richoted the pellet, fell backwards and stepped on his own glasses creating the necessity to lie or die at the hands of his parents (or so he thought). Yep, this is me, daydreaming of glory while tripping over reality, falling over the word "practice" and lying to myself that talent plus arrogance will one day equal the fulfillment of my dreams.

I'm writing while the sun is up. Practice. Practice.

Still Here

I don't know where the past week went but it has indeed gone by and I have not written since Monday. UGH!! Not what I intended for myself. There is a reason though and a good one, I might add.

I am going to bed at an earlier hour. All lights off. Everything left undone remains undone and I go to bed. I tend to write late at night so this place of where I write to write has gone untended.

I am going to reprioritize... Stop hanging out watching t.v...mainly Bones episodes on Netflix. Maybe just one episode instead o two or three. Writing is moreimportant to me. Sleep is critical. My child-like side likes to avoid these "things that are better for me" but I am through paying the price for my own willful inner child. (psycho babble but I gotta go to bed so is the best I can for now). My inner life is often more like a drunk live monkeys show but nuff said. Signing off and doing the right thing!

Hip! Hip! Hooray! Jolly good ole'girl!

Tootles!

Good morning before Good night!

I have been staying up until 2 a.m. or 3 a.m. about four days now. Went to sleep early last night because Micah was here with me. It is nearly 2:30 a.m. now and there is not doubt that I am awake at the moment. Cogent? Wouldn't pass an i.q. test right at the moment but I can write. I need to write.

We had a birthday party for my son today. He turned 38 years old. I love him more than any words can express.

I am a Christ follower. I pray. I know from many personal experiences in my life that God is intimately involved in the details of my life, the lives of my family and my friends. Yet, I fear. An od fear has returned. A deep, dark fear that permeates as a night fog permeates the darkness. A fear that gives me a chill. It is old, well known to me and I am defenseless in the face of it. Without God I would have lost my sanity to this fear. With God I have all hope. Still I am experiencing this fear and waiting for the other shoe to drop. Folks dismiss fear with statements about lack of faith, just pray, let go, etc. I have done the same when others were in fear. Those responses serve to put distance between the person making the statement and the person experiencing fear. Deep within me I think I still suspect that God is going to take something precious from me because I have been so inadequate in my walk with Him. I believe, somewhere in my heart, that I still need to pay a price, suffer an even greater loss, be stripped of the ones I love. I don't believe I have ever fully and completely understood that I am free and that God is not taking His pound of my flesh out of me as repayment for my previous life. The old nightmare of waiting, sensing, holding my emotional breath has returned. I am praying. I do trust God. It is myself I don't trust. I don't trust that I can wait on God. I don't trust that I deserve God's favor...not in the deep and dark times of my life. I imagine the worst. Today I understood that I cannot endure the worst now. I have changed. My survival skills are worn and out of date. Even more than that, I fully know that God is asking me to let go and wait on Him. I wonder if I can obey or if I will fail and move out ahead of Him. I wonder if I will pay for that with a thrashing from God. I am only being honest. I know beyond a shadow of doubt what God has done in my life. He will not thrash me. I am His beloved. But I will thrash myself and hide myself from God assuming a disfavor that never comes. Father, I believe. Help heal my unbelief!

I am going to sleep. Turns out I do get tired and ready for sleep. Turns out I am human. Imagine that!

Just playing with thoughts...

Tonight is the last time I even address the issue of Google+. I gave it one more try but I do not like all the "you must" and "this will change everywhere in Google". Ultimatums put a bad taste in my mouth  especially as I use a pen name and Google+ insists I use my name or allows me to change my name with the "universal Google" thing going on. Thus, I am officially not acquiring anymore Google+ than I already have today which I did not realize I had done when I was toying with it originally.

I did not work today. Literally. I stayed home with the exception of a short trip to the grocery. Watched a bunch of episodes of a show on Netflix that I cannot name at this moment. I knew the name until I wanted to write it. If the name were a dame, she would have just stood up and walked out the door, shut it and disappeared around the corner. Anyhoo...I also watch Bones on Netflix. I have a solid addiction to that series.

Yes, I do sound frivolous and laidback. I may well be frivolous in my t.v. viewing but I am not laidback. I give the appearance of laidback but only to those who know me casually..passing acquaintances. Intense is a word more often assigned to me. Of late I have been home, at work (my mom's house), church, wal-mart and an occasional coffee with a girlfriend, drs. visit and such. My world is small indeed. Working from home has proven to me that I, despite a gregarious bent to my personality, am fond of a small world. Who knew? The fact of the matter is that I am thinking I need to encourage myself to get out amongst people for the sake of it. No purposed decision. No, I need to be "tres" casual in my wanderings. If, that is, I have wanderings. I have copious amounts of "wonderings". Do they count, I wonder? (clever of me, don't you think?). I wonder where birds go when it rains. I wonder how stuff gets to my computer and out from me to your computer cause I just cannot grasp it in the air traveling along or on a cable speeding within seconds across the world. I wonder how deep the deepest part of the ocean is and if I would be able to swim there knowing how deep it is and all. I wonder if I will ever fully grow-up or if I will be consigned to the quasi-world of adulthood laced with childish musings? I wonder, wonder who wrote the book of love? (quoting a song and singing it in my head while writing.) Given another moment I will also choreograph people dancing to the song and build an environment around them complete with costuming and set design. Yes, I think "laidback" is a misnomer "pour moi"!

"What's with the French, lady?" a voice shouts from inside my head. "Pretentious drivel, don't ya think?" Pondering this question and the fact that it has been birthed from my own psyche makes me wonder just a little bit. Just a little bit is all though. I pretend to ignore the source of the shouts, shrugging my shoulder slightly with an air of nonchalance. Why let on that I wonder? It is my world and the source of the shouting is just living in it! Au revoir!

Quantico Good-byes!

Today my friend was buried in Quantico, Va. with full military honors. His wife will be buried beside him when that time comes. She had no idea that her husband would have this privilege. I could not attend that service but I was with them in spirit. What a fitting ending to the good-bye moments! This man will stay tucked in tight and close to my heart. His widow is my forever friend also. God has blessed me with such people in my life from time to time. I am honored.

It is late. I start work early tomorrow and work through the day. I wish I could say that I will be asleep in a flash. That is not likely for me. I would love to fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow and sleep deeply until waking in the morning. Such a sleep is a delicious fantasy for me. More often than not it is the opposite of my fantasy. This has been a trait of mine from the time I was a baby. I remember a few times I have slept a full eight hours. What a treat! My mind and body crave that experience again. No drug could replicate the luciousness of a deep, renewing rest. Ah, life, best taken as it presents itself. Ruminations of things I cannot change do me harm. Sleep may come to me later in life. Certainly it will, one day, come to me as my life ends and my new one begins.

Sweet dreams my fallen friend! One day we will meet again. Rested, complete, bathed in love and the glory of God. Until then I hold you in my heart with treasured memories to comfort me along my way. To God be the glory!

In Virginia

Drove to Virginia today to attend the services for the passing of my dear friend. Not a bad trip, heavy traffic but somehow I was oblivious to it. I stopped at the mall in Raleigh to buy my grandchildren a cheesecake from The Cheesecake Factory. I live in a relatively small town and I am 8 miles from the beach. Life in the area is laid back. We live on a seasonal economy. Casual is a way of life. When I step into a mall in a large city I immediately think how I need to buy some clothes. I need to wear something of higher quality. I am overwhelmed by the abundance of "stuff" available, the sheer magnitude of the environment. Consumerism on that level takes away my breath. The Cheesecake Factory resembles a palace of sorts, many people are waiting for tables, buying cheesecakes to go, music is loud. I feel like the jester in King Arthur's court or a fish out of water. My mind focuses on the task at hand and I leave the mall before I experience a craving to buy a hundred dollar bottle of perfume or a piece of jewelry that I will never wear but appears in a magical light in the store. I step outside of the mall, take a breath and all the intensity fades away. The allure melts away from my mind like ice cream melting on a hot summer day. My senses relax, my ego balances itself and I feel grateful for where I live. I feel grateful for the humbleness of my home and satisfaction with what I have in my life. Every once in awhile I believe I am missing out on something by living far from a cultured environment. I think how I have absorbed the nature of rural coastal living. I understand that the woman I am today is satisfied in her life. I realize I am at peace with myself. I love to travel and see different places and peoples. I don't often have the opportunity these days. I rode 400 miles on a Greyhound bus recently. I was comfortable in that environment. I felt at home with the people, the bus stations and the experience. Probably I have the heart of a wanderer and the contentment of a life I enjoy. I am not comfortable with the obsession to have all the things I see in malls. I get the compulsion. I was happy to move on today.

It is late. Tomorrow we have the service for my friend Ron Goodwin. I feel sad. I'm going to bed.

SO GLAD I LOVED THIS MAN!

Yesterday my daughter called me to tell me that her father-in-law had passed away in the VA hospital in Durham NC. He was in an awful vehicle accident on Mother's Day 2012. He was coming home with a card and a flower for his wife when he met someone driving farm equipment on the narrow, country road leading him home. There was not enough room and he had nowhere to go to be safe. He has spent all the time since that moment in hospital and desperately sick. I grew sick at my stomach when I got the call about the accident. I love my daughter's in-laws. I respect them. I feel loved by them. I have always been proud to know them.

Ron, his name, was a Viet Nam veteran who left a young wife and a young marriage to serve in Viet Nam. When I first met him I quickly learned that he suffered from PTSD and he had MS. The government admitted that the Agent Orange Ron found himself in during his days in Viet Nam was responsible for his MS. Over the past 20 years or so I have watched him evolve with the spirit of a true warrior and the strength of the love of an amazing woman. He became mellower, more loving, king of a large family and good friend to many, many others. He was argumentative, loved to play the adversary in conversations of politics, often spent time in his man cave, fought the local townspeople for the rights of access for disabled people and, most importantly, maintained a moral compass that I came to treasure. Like me, Ron was a character. I was not his wife. I am sure caring for him was often difficult and not always met with a thank you or I appreciate you. The love his wife showed him taught me a great deal about sacrificial love and also about building a life for yourself in whatsoever circumstances you find yourself. Did I mention that I loved this man? Love his family. Feel a deep, deep hole in my heart at this moment. I miss him already. I miss the idea of him. I miss the imaginings of him living on his property in the country near a small Virginia town and giving each of his three children land for their own homes if they so chose. I miss looking forward to breakfast with him at a local place on the day I would leave my daughter's and head home. I loved to rile him up and I miss that I can't do that now. Did I mention that I loved this man? Love him still. I honor and admire and I salute Ron Goodwin. I'm leaving for Virginia tomorrow to pay my respects to spend time with the family I have come to call my own and to love on my sister in Christ, Dianne Goodwin, as she says good-bye and I'll see you later in heaven, honey!

Death is not real to me. I often, despite the obvious reality, believe I could drive by my grandparent's place, gaze down the lane and see the lights on in their home, make the right turn onto the lane, park and step onto their back porch eagerly awaiting their hugs and love. I still see my other Grandmother sitting in her living room years after my grandfather passed. In my mind's eye I believe I could drive by her house on Christmas Tree Road, pull into the circular driveway, enter into the living room to find her in her chair. And most of all, I cannot shake the idea that my dad has simply gone for a long walk and I will come through mom's front door and see my Dad in his comfy chair reading a book and chewing tobacco.

 I had a vision of my paternal grandfather some time after he passed away. In that vision my grandfather was walking across a large, green pasture. He was walking towards me. I did not recognize him at first. As he drew nearer I saw that it was my grandpa, he had on his farming clothes and he looked just as he had when he died but he was striding, nearly floating across the grass with an energy that defies description. His arms were swinging in rhythm with his steps, health seemed to flow from him in a way I have not seen on earth. The vision ended. I thought to myself how I would never wish my grandpa alive on this earth for even one second. Not after what I saw in that vision. And, today, knowing what I know now, I rejoice that Ron Goodwin is free of a body that suffered to serve him well. He is bursting with energy, filled with joy, possessed with a gift that only those who have crossed over can know. Ron Goodwin, I loved you well, my brother in Christ. I salute you and yearn for the day when we will meet again. I love you.

WHY??

Why won't I go to bed and get some sleep? I have to be up at 3:45 and I have been planning to go to bed for over 2 hours. Why won't I go? Find a song on youtube and listen to four more. Watch three Bones episodes on Netflix, read Facebook twice and the list goes on. Go to bed, darlin'. You need your rest. Mama said I tried to stay awake from an early age. She sat outside and endured my crying until I stopped. She came in my room and I had gone fast asleep standing up and draped over the crib railing. Mama said she always thought I was afraid I was going to miss out on something. Dad was a nightowl. Mom is a nightowl. My sister is a nightowl and so are a number of other family members. But I need my rest. I say I want to feel better. I say I want to get well. So why, for the love of Pete, won't I go to sleep? Got it off my chest. Going to bed now. Two hours later than planned and a 3:45 alarm set. I never said I was real smart when it comes to self-discipline. I may be smart in other ways but it does me no good when I need self-discipline. Trudging the happy road of destiny....night!

Calming Down For Sleep

 Oddest statement today from the appointment staff member for the cardiologist I am going to see. I'm asking where they are located and she answers and tells me what to bring with me and reminds me that my appointment is at 12:30 then says, "Don't be here before 12:30!" I'm thinking well if that doesn't take the cake. All doctor's say be here early to fill out paperwork and bring a list of medications, etc. Nope! She said don't arrive early and bring my bottles of medicine - not a list. So, now I am thinking if I should stand in the hall and walk in at the dot of 12:30 or what? My fondest wish is that the cardiologist is as prompt and direct as his employees. Darn shortness of breath. I am seeing a pulmonologist who is from India or thereabouts who has not one moment for conversation not related to his question. Nope. Don't think out loud. He will cut off your ruminations with a curt, "So, is that the answer?" So I say, "Why yes! Yes, it is the answer." even if I don't have a clue because he has cut me off in mid thought. I simply don't remember my life in time segments neatly tucked away in my brain. I don't know how many times I had bronchitis last year. A bunch sounds like a good answer. I tried to tell him more often than not it was a combo of bronchitis and asthma or walking pneumonia but he says, " So are you telling me you had it about 12 times last year?" "Yes", I said, "Exactly twelve times now that you think of it." because it was he who thought of it. "What bronchiodilators work for you?" "None now, sir!" "Which ones", he asks barely glancing my way. "Well, I don't know their names but they have all stopped working for me." "There is a chart on the back of the door" he says with a dismissive air and the point of a finger. I go and look. I know that one of these worked for me two years ago and I try to tell him how that came about and that it was a long time ago. He either doesn't hear me or chooses to ignore me but he writes something in his chart. Probably dismissing me as the village idiot. My breathing had improved that day. I wanted to be gasping for air to prove the severity of my plight. I tried to tell him the shortness of breath has increased. But my body made a fool of me. Rather than the short breaths of air I had been taking for over two weeks I found that I could breathe rather well that day. There is no end to the amount of drama and uniqueness that has been robbed from me over the years by my body turning on me at the doctor's office. Tomorrow I go the cardiologist at exactly 12:30. Don't arrive before 12:30. My personality type is not aligned with obeying direct orders. Even a simple "We would prefer..." would get better results from this woman. Tomorrow I am going to only speak when spoken to and I am going to have a timeline made up to satisfy the, "When was the last time you...?" questions. I am 61 years old. I have lost track of time. I live by events and tend to forget the passing of time or the future time to pass, for that matter. Maybe psychedelics did a tap dance on my brain. Maybe stress erases datelines. Maybe I just wasn't paying attention. Why don't they get my records from my doctor and count for themselves? Can't say that this post has calmed me down for bed but it has lightened my load. I hope I can understand the calls from foreign lands at 3:30 a.m. tomorrow. What kind of a job asks you to transcribe recorded information such as name and name of company when most of the callers speak primarily Mandarin Chinese. I cannot understand the recorded information. When I ask how I am to transcribe this information I am told to do my best. You see, we might have been a little off the beaten path back in my ealier days but I think there has been a residual effect appearing in our cultue today. Do the best I can dechipering the voice of a gentleman from China providing his information in Mandarin. Groovy. Got it! No prob, girlfriend. I promise not to be there before 12:30.

Not What I Planned

The reason I do this blog is to encourage me to write. I have a belief system that I must have an inspiration to write or find a pathway to a deep thought or a funny moment. Much of what I write comes off the top of my head. I spend less (gotta get this off my chest...*&^%$...just deleted at least five, if I must say so myself, brilliant sentences...*&^%$), to continute, I spend less than five or, at the most, ten minutes on any of the blogs I have written. Know what? I cannot return to my thoughts on this subject now. I somehow deleted a few sentences that were great in expressing what I am trying to get across tonight and then I flipped out of this page and ended up back on the statistics page, had to find this blog and choose edit to try again. These are foreboding signs for me. O.K., not so much foreboding as frustrating. I don't do frustrating well. Who does frustrating well? I must calm down, allow the frustration to flow through me and then I can do the aftermath of frustration quite well. But I don't want to return to my original thoughts in this blog tonight. There is a more than good chance that I will never achieve a structured, disciplined writing habit. I am such a brat! I want everything to come to me. I like stream of consciousness, bursts of ideas and emotional moments to flow. I like to write for five to ten minutes, review it a bit, edit a bit and let it go. As I have stated, ad infinitum, I am a recovering alcoholic with the traits of that personality type. Instant gratification thrills me. Immediate results make my day. The part time job I have involves answering calls that last from 20 to 40 seconds. I gather information, I accomplish the task, end the call and pick up the next one. My hours are spent in a long sucession of immediate results and instant gratification. Answer, greet, ask, type, good-bye, gone! Love to do my job well, see each customer as the opportunity to do my job well, get it done quickly and start the cycle again. Don't go thinking that my life has to travel at that pace all day long or I lose interest. My health won't allow it. Otherwise I love an edge, a momentum that demands results and results that made a difference and moving on to the next one. I can do projects. When I worked (prior to retirement work) I was on projects that went on for months. The hook for me was that each step of the project held intensity, research, breaking it down, debating, deadlines, results, next step...same cycle. It is this personality type and my absolute love of an adrenaline rush that aided and abetted my mental and physical decline in that job. I am different today. Maybe I would be closer to the heart of the matter if I chose to say my circumstances are different today. They do not lend me the opportunity to kick start the adrenaline cycle. Even the faintest taste of a challenge draws me to the starting line. My doctors caution me to resist the compulsion, remove myself from an environment that would cultivate my compulsion, in other words, do not, under any circumstances, volunteer, create or design an opportunity for me to step up to the starting line. This adrenaline junkie has blown her engine out. My moment has passed. Naw, my moment zoomed by with me hanging on for dear life. Writing answers a need for me. Time will tell if I go beyond this blog thing. To do that I will need to do the writing and someone else will need to do the promoting, making contacts, and whatever else goes with moving onward and upward. I have no belief that I could get amongst the crowd without setting a light to the fuse of my adrenaline rocket, blasting off into a blaze of promotional glory all engines full throttle, hitting a wall, falling to the ground with bits of blazing glory scattered all around and professionals standing by shaking their heads saying, "I told you so!"

Ms. Ella Gonna Talk Bout Money!

My last post I waxed philosophical about money from the perspective of listening to wise counsel when your finances are the topic.

Today I post this song, written by the Beatles, sung by Ms. Ella Fitzgerald. The song says it all. Money can't buy me love!

Dig it! Ms. Ella gonna break it down for ya!






(I was just reading some of my older posts. First time I have done that since I started this blog and I thought to myself, I thought, you writes real good, sister, real good!)

Trying To Make A Buck

Not trying to mind anyone's business or anything but learn from me. Make a budget. Stick to it. Save some money! Being very laid back about money has gotten me nowhere fast. Oh it sounds cool! "Money doesn't matter to me that much." Tons of money doesn't matter that much to me, true. Preparing for the future does not end up in that category. Yes, there is a future whether you or I like that or not and it does finally arrive right on time. Folks tried to tell me. But, I was terminally hip and fatally cool (and that is a quote from a book...not my own words). I made jokes, put off paying attention to any sound advice from well-meaning people and here I am today trying to make a buck. I have retirement. I also have too many bills I created while paying no attention to the fact that I might actually live to be 61. Don't get me wrong! I am not angry. I'm cool. I like my job working from home. I can, however, be a warning signal to anyone who is as cavalier as I have been the majority of my life. I don't require much to be happy. I like my life simple. I would like myself a bit better if I had shown better judgement. It's the truth. No skirting around the issue. Folks tell us things for our own good and they are right. I didn't listen. Maybe I was in a psychological funk or incapable of making a life out of what I had chosen for myself. Even a blind person can hear the train whistle blow. I am your train whistle. Listen up when grown folks be talking. Or call me later for the number of the company I work for these days. They are nice people. O.K. Enough of my histrionics...another word for I tend to get a little carried away with myself. All's I'm saying is listen up and try things another way when people try to help you. that's all. love ya. mean it.

It is NOT Saturday!

Retirement creates the illusion that the days of the week are jumbled up and arrive arbitrarily. Many of them seem to be Saturday. Today is Friday and what a Friday, I might add. Even so I  keep getting the impression it is Saturday and I am way behind on everything. I am way behind on everything to be honest but Saturdays are the precursor to Sunday and I clean our church building on Saturdays. Today seeming to be Saturday has given me several mini panic attacks and then, to take the cake, I tried to download something onto my mother's computer that totally whacked up internet explorer and I was working on-line at the same time and trying to get work hours for next week and thinking thoughts that pretty much looked like this: *&&^%$  ((*&^^%. Two and a half hours of not knowing what the heck I had done to this computer were two and a half hours too many. As soon as my shift ended I did the "go back" to earlier today and everything went back to where it was before my exceptionally clever self sat down and created the mess. Oh my! I am not a clever girl when it comes to how things work. I believe I am spatially dyslexic and technologically retarded. That did not stop me from trying, mind you. And on  my mom's computer? What was I thinking? Oh yeah, I wasn't thinking. Actually my thinking went something like this: why not download this program while I am at work, on my mom's computer and don't have a freaking idea what I am doing. Things don't change much. I am stuck in the 5th or 6th grade or maybe even at 7 years old. During this entire experience I clinched up numerous times thinking it is Saturday and I am far behind the curve. My hair is not blonde and I am considered intelligent. Whatever! When the ball starts rolling down the hill it picks up speed,darlings, it picks up a  lot of speed. I'm just saying!

Short and Sweet

The pulmonary doctor I saw today is a man of few words, has a deadpan expression and asks questions to which he anticipates a response with little or no conversation. I believe he is a good doctor but reading my writing has proven to anyone by now that I don't do little or no conversation. I did today though. I met my match when I met this doctor. Fortunately I was working on breathing and feeling better and did not take offense. I  felt more like a monkey who has been given a strange object and is turning it every which way in an effort to understand it. I did not do the monkey thing and take a bite out of the doctor. I got smarts real good bout those kind of things, y'all.

Night!

Midnight and one minute. It is tomorrow. YIPPEE!

Struggling to get my breath. Doctor tomorrow. Another one. My body is an anomaly. (sure hope that is spelled right and used correctly). What I mean to say is that my body evades diagnosis while exhibiting multiple symptoms. I am a medical chameleon. My doctor is bewildered by me. Not a surprise. I have been bewildering folks for a long, long time. But my body will not give up its secrets. There is a suspicion that long term stress is the culprit. Even so it would seem that symptoms would reveal their source. yada, yada, yada! Fiddle-dee-dee! Lousy breathing sucks. I am beginning to think I have asthma/bronchitis that took two weeks to fully develop. and...WAIT A MINUTE...no more talk of my health. I am bored to tears with it, truth to tell. Folks are accustomed to me being physically challenged. It is yesterday's news.

What about the royal baby? Wasn't that precious? I harkened back to the days when I had my babies and I can say in all honesty that I did not look stunning when leaving the hospital. The royal child's mother, Kate, has a lot of nerve looking so beautiful the day after having her baby. 10 hours of labor and looking perfectly lovely the very next day. It isn't human, is it? I quite resent it. I admire the way she appears to be handling royal life. I wonder ( and this  is an aside) if she uses "royal jelly bee balm". Wouldn't that be delicious? Imagine the advertisements. Try to read that word the way the British pronounce it...can't spell it any different but advertisements and aluminum sound so posh when spoken by people in the king's English. So many people waiting for the birth of this baby with happy anticipation. Such pagentry and yet rather simple at the end. Of course I did not pay attention to a minute of it. No, I was too busy doing important things and thinking important thoughts,etc., etc. But, I won't hold it against myself that I became caught up in the wait and the thrill of it all. Beats learning that another politician is a sexual deviant or another 50 to 100 people lost their lives in a number of different ways. For awhile the sheer relief of good, clean excitement over a fairy-tale moment is fine. Just fine, indeed. I promise to carry the burdens of the world again. I won't forget the stream of tragedy and violence the press pours over us each day.  It is my duty to be appropriately appalled. I beg a diversion for a brief interlude of glimpsing the royal baby all cuddly, snuggly in his mum's arms. A breath of fresh air for one and all.

I am going to  take my cue from a certain little train engine I learned of in my childhood. As it climbed the little mountain and struggled to make it to the top it kept saying,"I think I can. I think I  can. I think I can." As a new day has dawned with me finishing my last work shift for the day and headed for bed the truth is..."I think I  can!"

No breath and full of sadness!

A country song about loss, suffering and disappointment would be perfect in this post. I don't write songs. Could if I tried, I guess! Motivation is low because my breathing is short due to one of about six possible things. This is not my first time to this rodeo. Unfortunately I do feel different from other times. I trend to the dramatic when my breath is short. My doctor said it is normal to feel panic when suffocating. At least I am normal yet one more time. No unique in this girl, no sir! If I do it I can bet it has been done. In case the reader does not know it, uniqueness is the lifetime goal of any alcoholic worth their salt. Yes, I am sober and have been for a long time...what seems like an eternity. Yet, the traits followed me through the crucible of sobering up. A desire to be unique and larger than life dogs my steps. So, imagine the disappointment my ego has taken to find out that anyone who is not breathing well feels panic. If I had the energy I would invest some time in building up my panic. My doctor is not fooled and, as a matter of interest, does not think I exaggerate at all. Rats! I am a lousy sober alcoholic. Dang it! What is a girl to do with herself when breath comes at a premium and lethargy and depression lurk around her. Depression is a family gift. A genetic predisposition that has caught up with me in the past year or so. I was arrogantly proud of not being one of the folks in my family with depression. Don't count your chickens before they hatch, y'all.

And then...old nightmares come back to haunt me. I thought they were dead. I thought that fiery hell was over with and done. But, no! There are things that appear to be dead yet can resurrect in a skinny minute. Throw enough fuel on the fire and it will blaze with that hideous flame flickering out setting everything it touches on fire. I have no control over this nightmare. It is not mine. The flames burn me. They frighten me but I am not in charge of the fire. I pray and ask my Father in heaven for the courage to wait out this flaming inferno. I ask Him to help me to love the unloveable in this blaze of hell. One more time I am standing in the gap asking my Father God to protect the ones I love. I ask Him to hold back the Evil One from my family. I stand in the gap with the grace of my Father on one shoulder and the dread of the storm to come on the other.

So, yeah, I have short breath and I am full of sadness but I can't write a song about it. Could if I tried, I guess.

WHEW! I almost posted that blog!

Last night I began a blog that was triggered by a pet peeve of mine. In retrospect it is the height of arrogance to believe that anyone is interested in my pet peeves. The word "peeve" is in and of itself enough to distract me from reading further. Nevertheless I was deep into philosophizing when I was interrupted. Thanks be to God! Were it not for the interruption I would have gone on and on for word after word explaining how I (the magnificent "I") felt regarding a volatile topic. Oh, spare me, from myself. Even I don't want to hear myself expound, pontificate and provide personal experiences adnauseum on the topic. I have no idea if I spelled "adnauseum" correctly. It means I could have gone on until I felt like puking, throwing up, hurling; you get the picture.

I am writing while surrounded by a multitude of tasks that beg doing in my home. My plan was to make a dent in those tasks today. Oops!

The day is hot. Southern hot with insects invading our privacy while brilliant sunlight threatens to blind the naked eye. O.K. You got me on that one. I am exaggerating! But is hot and that's a true fact.

Cleaning calls to me. Oh, goody! I can hardly wait. When, oh when, will my maid show up and insist on cleaning while I pursue my many interests. (guffaw!) That is funny. "many interests". Yeah, right! I am just going to start on my list of tasks without further ado!

Be happy! I could have pontificated on my original topic crushing your nature with the weight of my ponderous musings.

Done Been To Coon Dog Day in Saluda, N.C.

I ended yesterday's post with a mention of Coon Dog Day. We went to Saluda, N.C., ate breakfast at a small restaurant, set up our chairs outside near the edge of the street and waited for the event to begin. Our walk from the designated parking area left no doubt that today was about coon dogs. We saw a number of people walking around with their coon dogs in tow. A bit of baying went on and no small amount of slobber dripping from coon dog jowls added to the ambience. The rain held off for the most part. Small showers passed over. We stayed put as it has rained at some point every day since last Sunday. There was no way we were going to miss the bagpipers who were near the front of the parade.

People watching is a favored pasttime of mine. Sitting on the sidelines before the parade began was fun. Folks were walking down a long hill, up another long hill and, further ahead of us, rounding a bend taking them into the tiny village of Saluda.

The parade began. It was pure americana at it's best. There were the bagpipers, the shriners in tricked out hillbilly trucks, children pretending to pull a truck up the hill and doing a convincing job of it, many firetrucks, rescue squad vehicles and loud, blaring horns and sirens. The queen of coon dog day and the king of coon dog day rode by in vintage cars and the kids from a local summer camp marched, trudged and strolled by waving small American flags and tossing candy to the kids on the sidelines. Then, abruptly, it was over. On the way back to our vehicle we went down into this muddy little valley area and looked at coon dog puppies, hound puppies, and others. I practiced walking away from those dear babies at each stop. I am a sucker for little animals. The occasional baying from a larger dog caught my attention reminding me that no one in our park would find the baying of a coon dog acceptable. Drat! Darn!

The creeks in this area are full from the steady rains. The water rushes over and around rocks. I lived in these mountains for 6 years as a young teen. The rushing of the water with glimpses of rocks beneath took me back to a time long ago when I lived up here. Nostalgia filled me. I have asked God to bring me back to the mountains if it could possibly fit in His plan for me. At this point in time I have brief periods of  time to visit. This visit has been different. While I love the mountains and want to live in them I did not experience the yearning and heartache that I have in the past. I realized that I am o.k. with wherever I live. I have a preference but no obsession. This realization sets me free to enjoy where I live on the coast.

Tomorrow is Sunday. This will be the second Sunday in a row that I will miss attending the Intersection. I miss my church family. I suppose I miss home. Home is stressful and busy but it is home. This time away has relaxed me and I am grateful for it. God gave me a gift of a few more days. He knows why and I am cool with His decision.

I am sleepy. Sweet dreams to me and to anyone reading this blog! Jesus loves me. This I know!

How I Ended Up At Coon Dog Day!

Finally I am back to writing. I chose to work my butt off in order to earn money to have for a trip to the North Carolina mountains to spend a week with my sister. Actually the work began before my last post as I left for the mountains on the 27th of June. I worked my on-line job, cleaned my mom's house, power-washed her shed, helped a friend of mine get organized to move and a few other small jobs at my mom's. For my efforts, and with a serendipitious check that arrived in the mail, I was able to have money for my trip.

It is July 5th. I took the bus from near my home on the coast of N.C. to Asheville, N.C. on the 27th of June. The idea was that my sister and I would drive back to the coast today or tomorrow. I would be home and my sister would spend a week with my mother. Well....

My visit has been interesting, to say the least, and why not, I ask myself, given the quantity of "interesting moments" littering the pathways of my days. The weather was beautiful from last Thursday afternoon through last Sunday. My sister lives on the side of a mountain and in the woods. Her house is awesome. Her property is awesome. She has the spirit of an artist and the career of a horticulturalist.
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For a couple of days she worked and I was at the house alone with the silence, the wind in the trees, sitting on the screened in porch watching birds feed at her feeders. The best part was watching a mother and father bluebird bring food to their babies nestled in one of my sister's bird houses. Her place is a retreat for me. On Sunday we went for a ride ending up at Chimney Rock. We paid, took the elevator to the top and climbed the steps to Chimney Rock where we had an amazing view of Lake Lure and the surrounding communities. Great time!

Monday the rains came to town. Really! Lots and lots of rain. Sitting at the house and listening to the rain fall through the trees with a cool wind blowing was magical. But the rain kept coming. It is Friday. I have been here 8 days. It rained Mon., Tues, Wed. and Thurs. I don't mind at all but my sister, who has her own landscaping business, has lost hours of work time at the peak growing time of the season.

Oh, I forgot to mention, the first night I was here my son called to tell me his fiance had cut her writsts and taken a bunch of pills. He was at work and could not leave so I ended up calling 911 for an emergency almost 400 miles away. I don't have to tell anyone that I was stressed to the max. Things worked out and maybe for what will be the best in the long run but it was a hell of a first night in the mountains.

Back to the part of us leaving tomorrow. Ain't happening! Today my sister's work truck was leaking fuel. Remember that I said she lives in the mountains and in the woods. Varmints had nibbled all through her fuel line. Official Ford mechanic quote: $1000. Shock! Gasp! Not good news. We picked up her other vehicle, the one we were taking to the coast, and my sister mentioned the brakes felt weird. I said that I had to push down on them hard to come to a true stop when I drove the vehicle so we decided we had better take that vehicle to the Ford place and let a mechanic drive it to check the brakes. Yep! You guessed it! The front wheel brakes are shot. Official Ford mechanic quote: $700. And, as if that is not enough, the vehicle will not be ready to take to the coast until Monday...afternoon. But it did stop raining today. And the power that was off at the house due to a storm did come back on today.

That's about it...so far. By the clock it is now Saturday. We won't be traveling 400 miles but I think we may travel about 10 miles to go to Coon Dog Day.  It ain't all bad now is it my friends?

 

HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY 2013 FROM CHIMNEY ROCK N.C.

Losing what I thought I had that I had already lost and then lost again

Long term relationships are complex to me. I do not have the ability to know if someone exceptionally close to me is being real or shining me on. I have learned, more times than once, that my heart and my common sense do not talk to each other. My gut feeling makes a valiant effort to negotiate with me. I hear it but, more often than not, I tune it out. There is comfort for me in the belief that the surface of someone I care for reflects the depths of that person. Years of chasing that comfort have proven me wrong. Time after time my self-imposed ignorance coupled with my voiceless common sense have left me in situations that hurt and shocked me. I participate with my own self in a  conspiracy to hide the truth from me. What I say cannot possibly be true proves to be the only truth. I feel like the jester in a king's court. Silly girl! Stop priding yourself on knowing because you don't and stop trying to possess what wasn't yours in the first place.  I hate the wounded feeling I carry with me everywhere I go once I know that I know that my dreams of reality were just that, dreams. Ever the hopeful child, armed with denial as my sword, I fall prey to illusions.

Don't Have A Clue!

Mr. Owl has been unavailable to me for several weeks now. I pray he has not met an untimely death. Hopefully he is nested up with an owl cutie making baby owls. I prefer the lovely thought of baby owls to a permanent loss of Mr. Owl. Coming home from my mother's without a hoot or a glimpse of the gentleman owl is a distant second from the times I catch a glimps of him perched on the top of the water tower. I am not wise to the ways of owls. I don't have a clue of their patterns and habits. He could be right smack in the middle of what owls do at this time of year and I, the ever dramatic woman, will imagine him gone forever, lost to me, leaving me behind without so much as a wing wave. Is this what is meant by "not giving a hoot"?

Animals have found their way into my psyche without so much as an invitation from me. Pets have been in and out of my life over the years. Sonny, my doxie who art in heaven, began this trend. Rico and Sugar, two Siamese who were as polar opposite as two Siamese can manage to be, brought the love of cats to me. Now I am a freaking animal lover shunning the death of any living thing by my hand unless it is invading my house, i.e., ants, roaches and the like. If they would stay outside I would leave them to their destiny. No, I am not a vegetarian. I often think of the dichotomy between my right to life approach for every thing up to and including trees and wonder how I manage to eat meat. Lacking the self-discipline required to change my dietary habits plays a large role for my non-choice. No choice is a choice of course. I can't fish and I live 8 miles from the ocean. I cannot bear to watch fish die or hear them flopping frantically in coolers. I lose my breath as I find myself breathing for them. Yes, alright, I have crossed a line at some point and become a bit neurotic in the process. I am a first class bleeding heart. I don't have a clue when or where I became a complete bleeding heart. It borders on a phobia. I mind my son's business regarding his dogs and, if I had a large property, I would be adopting stray animals and stray people with impunity. There's a five dollar word for ya!

Father's Day today! We pulled off a good time together as family around my mom's table. I don't have a clue how I have come to plan family events for our group here at the coast but I have become the planner and, often the executer, of the gatherings. Mom buys much of the food stuff. If there is cooking involved I do it now. For many years my mom cooked and cooked. Fond memories of holiday seasons with mom's cooking and family coming in at my mom and dad's loading the countertops and tables with a decadent  amount of foods often drift through my mind  Today those times are gone. Dad is gone. My grandmother is gone. The matriach of Sampson County left us without a plan. For years her plan had been "the plan". We are scattered now. We had six at the table today. Still we represented three generations. Smithfield's chicken and bbq and banana split pies were just fine with us. No one wanted to cook. When it comes to families ours ranks pretty high on the scale for dysfunction and eccentricities. Everyone I know says the same thing about their families. It could be that families are complex as a rule. Love overcomes a multitude of sins and age mellows us out.

I am weary of the paralysis of analysis. What is, is! I have decided to love folks and pray for them as they come to mind. It is the softer, easier way! At the age of 61 I have made my peace with life. I am blessed beyond measure just because I am loved. I gave life a go. Yep, I tried as hard as I could to kick life's ass. Ultimately life kicked mine all over the place until I cried "Uncle!. Enough is enough. I hereby bestow my proclivity for rebellion to those younger and far wiser than I. I am living and breathing in three quarter time and, yes, those words are in a song. But, I don't have a clue whose song!

A Little Melancholy

Our family has a history of depression and melancholia. Recently I have felt that genetic link pulling on me. I, the eternal optimist, am struggling to understand this state of mind. I tend to fight my way out of moods and situations that trouble me. When I am feeling melancholy the fight ebbs from me a bit at a time. I recognize it at some point and begin to practice the ways I know that rescue me back to myself. The surprise is that this is happening to me on a regular basis. My sister says I simply have the family malaise. It is, in some ways, inevitable. Genetics are wonderful and they suck. Trying to pretend that I do not closely resemble my paternal grandmother is tatamount to the ostrich sticking his head in the sand. Someone had to do the job, and I say that with a smile, as I have learned to appreciate her good qualities along with her extreme eccentricities.

So, I have to get up early in the morning for work. It is 11:30 p.m. Time to take night meds, put on jammies and go to bed. I wish sweet dreams for myself. I would like to dream of Sonny, my dear doxie, who passed away in February of this year. I would love to see him running and playing with the energy of a puppy. Do you believe animals go to heaven? I do. I'm gonna see my Sonny again and he is going to live with me again.

Life is strange, isn't it? I am 61 years old. I was born a few seconds ago when compared with the span of history and the depth of the universe. In many ways we pass through this life experience like a meteor speeding by the earth. A glimpse for a moment or two and gone. Am I being morbid? I think not!

Where is my owl? He will set things straight if I can manage to hear him or see him on the tower.

WHAT ON EARTH!!

I have obviously imagined in my head that I have written in this blog since last Sunday. Tomorrow is Sunday. From this I cleverly surmise that it has been one day short of a week since I have written in this blog. That simply will not do fo rme. At this rate I will be 110 years old before I do formal writing. If once a week is what I call practicing then I am a poor example, indeed, of a writer. Self-discipline has never been a strong card of mine.

OH FOR THE LOVE OF PETE!!! I managed to delete half of what I wrote after the last sentence of the paragraph above. I can't get it back. There's no crying over spilled milk ,I suppose , though I do have the compulsion to scream for a second or two! One more time the importance of saving my work periodically as I write is demonstrated in the loss of words. Precious words! Gone now as if I never thought of them.

A freind of mine mentioned Mr. Owl to me tonight. She heard him in the hooting nearby within the past few days. I was relieved. I have not seen him or heard him in about two weeks. I thought he flew the coop to take up new digs in a forest away from here. The weather has been stormy. Perhaps he is huddled in a tree holding on for dear life as one gust of wind after the other threatens to pull him from his perch. I would love to see him soon. I need to tip my imaginary cap to him. I need to feel that bond between us. The watched and the watcher performing for your viewing pleasure as night grows deep. He will show himself to me soon. We've got a thing going on!

Sleep overtakes me. Ta-ta for now or "ttfn".

Sunday

I had a normal day. WHAT? I had a normal day. Sunday. Wake up with my grandson and have rice and scrambled eggs. Get ready for church and go to church. Come home. Sit down in front of the t.v. and fall promptly asleep waking to catch bits and pieces of whatever my husband is watching. Eat a couple of times. Spend a little bit of time on the laptop. Go to mom's for about an hour. Come home ready to go to bed early. Don't go to bed early. Sort through a drawer of my desk. Spend some more time on the computer checking bus schedules and paying auto tax on-line. Check work schedule and assign myself a couple of more hours despite a hectic day tomorrow without those hours. Decide to do a bit of a chat up on this blog and then prepare for bed. Wake-up time is 6:30 and I just realized I did not buy the yogurt for my morning smoothie! Drat and Darn! A normal day. Chaos lingering around the edges but it can wait for another day. I can't find my car keys. But that is normal for me. Every day, it seems, I am looking for something I have lost. Time for meds and bed. Everything is groovy! If I could figure out how to put the you tube videos on here I would play the one by Simon and Garfunkel...."Hello, lamp post, what'cha doing........(words I don't know) feeling groovy!"

Does It Get Any Better Than This?

Today I picked up my seven year old grandson, Micah, for him to spend the night at my house and go to church in the morning. There is no predicting what mood I will find him in when I arrive. He is growing up. One day hugs are the best and the next day he is aware of me but too cool to be hugging on me.

Today Micah was full of love. He had been playing at the beach with friends and was mellowed out by the sun and the exercise. The beach is a short walk down the street and over a dune from his mother's apartment. This year the beach has become Micah's playground. I wasn't sure he would want to spend the night with me thinking I might lose out to the joy of going to the beach tomorrow. But he did want to come with me and he hugged me tight, climbed into the van and brightened my world into a blaze of happy colors.

We were going to get ready for bed and watch Peter Pan on my laptop. The minute I started the movie he was fast asleep. Gone completely into a deep slumber he relaxes and his face is tender, younger than seven and beautiful. His tenderness with me today healed me a bit from the anxieties and fears roaming round in my head. Nothing compares to the love of a grandchild or their total belief that Grandma has things under control even though Grandma may wonder about that herself.

Tomorrow he will wake up and he will want rice and scrambled eggs. Guess what? He will get them. It is the routine we have developed over the last few years. He sleeps in what he calls my "cozy little bed" and sometimes I sleep with him and sometimes I sleep on a foam mattress beside him. Our rituals together are unspoken expectations speaking volumes about our trust and love for each other. How I love my time with Micah! I really do wonder if it gets any better than this?

Five Minutes

Got new glasses. I can see! It is awesome to see the print on the boxes at Wal-Mart. Unfortunately I have not seen Mr. Owl in awhile because I could not see him. I have vision again. I'll update immediately when I see him again. If you don't have a clue what I am talking about one of my earlier blogs is sure to include information regarding Mr. Owl.

Life is strange. Life is challenging. Life is a gift. Life is a two-edged sword! Life is a trip. Life is short. Life sucks for an hour, exhilarates for an hour, bores me for an hour and so on and so forth. Life is fragile. Life was a magazine. Bravo to life!

I cut the grass this afternoon. The backyard was a jungle. Now my body is asking me what I was thinking yet my mind is at peace as my hard work made a difference to our home. I know, what do you care, right? I'm wondering that myself. Just writing about me cutting the grass. YAY! Big deal! People do that sort of thing all the time! Small successes count!

Late for bed, as usual. My large kitten, emphasis on large, is vying for my attention by biting at wires under my desk. Do you have a tangled mess of electrical cords, computer cords, recharging device lines, etc. under your desk?

Speaking into an abyss as there has not been a comment on any of my posts in a long, long time. If I yelled "hello" into this blog I would get an echo in return. Hello, ello, llo, lo........!

I think five minutes is up. Probably more. I dunno. Peace out!

Ignorance is bliss! Awareness brings responsibility!

Recently I made a decision to begin a free course of studies provided by the Voice of Martyrs (VOM). They are a Christian organization who draw attention to the martyrdom of Christians throughout the world. This topic has drawn my attention from time to time. I admit I avoided looking too closely at any data or listening to stories of Christian persecution. I knew the moment I began educating myself I would also become responsible for my knowledge. I also knew that I have not, to my knowledge, suffered so much as a breath of persecution as an American Christian. Viewing videos and learning the extent of persecution in other parts of the world drops the scales from my eyes. What I would look away from, avoid when presented with it, I now can see.

The suffering I have learned of in the short time since I began these courses is overwhelming. I remember going to the Grand Canyon as a teen-ager and looking at the vastness of the canyon. I remember looking down into the canyon as I stood behind the safety of a fence. With growing awe I realized that my mind did not have the ability to perceive the depth of this magnificent Grand Canyon. My vision saw the depth. My mind could not encompass what my eyes transmitted back to it. About half-way down is where my mind stopped and I found myself unable to relate to the reality of that great vastness. So it is with the reality of the persecution of Christians around the world. I read the words, watch and listen to the videos, absorb the statistics yet I cannot relate to the reality. Perhaps this is why I was drawn to pursue these courses from VOM. Perhaps it is time to study, listen, view, pray and understand the truth of persecution.

I anticipate to hold this pattern of distancing myself from the reality for awhile longer. After that my normal reaction is anger fueling a desire in me to conquer a reality I cannot begin to accept. Some time will pass and I will allow the truth of martydom and persecution to settle into my psyche. I will allow myself to identify with the truth and then I will ask God what He will have me to do as a response to my identification.

The pursuit of knowledge can be a dangerous business. It can alter our world in small and large ways. Once the scales fall from our eyes and we see what has been hidden we are responsible for that knowledge. May God help those suffering for His name's sake tonight!

Been Gone

went to Virginia to attend my oldest grandson's high school graduation and triple loved it because i have three grandchildren so it is triple love and then you add my daughter and her husband and it is triple plus two love. i could add more because i did receive a bunch of love and hope i gave some also. great week-end. left friday and came back today, sunday. short and very sweet trip. i love virginia. my family lives in the country. i mean, really...in the country. beautiful green trees and pastures with light green grasses, honeysuckle aroma that went straight to my head triggering years of  memories of the scent of honeysuckle. virginia red clay, gravel roads, country air, the works. can you tell i enjoyed it?

home now and up way too late for my own good but i didn't want to go to sleep before writing a bit.

a man i care for very much is fighting for his life at the VA hospital. he is having dreams or visions of beautiful mansions. he tells his wife they are not visions or dream. they are real and they are too beautiful to describe. he says there are no words to describe their beauty. he is in a va hospital and in a hospital room but he sees it and exclaims how beautiful the room is and tells his wife how beautiful the room is to him. one foot here and one foot in heaven. i am so grateful he is seeing beauty and is not afraid. he is an awesome man. we all love him very much!

night!

Just A Little Something....

http://youtu.be/M9K7mlpgUJ8

Please listen. The rest of this post will make ever so much more sense.

                                                          Meet Arrogance and Ego

Masters of Disguise

 

 

Listening to a few songs from way back in the day when my mind was under the influence of, well, more than a couple of things. I was 17 when I heard the song I have attached. I was gone...way gone on a drug trip that lasted 13 hours. Yeah, you are right! I should have known better. Good Day Sunshine has been a part of me in an intrinsic way since the day I heard it playing when my own brain did not know me. Writing is about truth either in your face or disguised in stories born of truth. This writing today is the truth. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Behind a mask I hid
myself. Behind that mask
was another and another
and another.
But the truth came crashing in
One day
Despite my clever disguise,
The truth came in.                                                                                                                                 
C'est moi mon ami!
You've been found!       

 

It's Me!

Yesterday I quoted Mr. Sponsorpants who has a blog that I follow regularly. Today I am myself.  "Ms. Smartypants" comes to mind as a fair moniker for me. A main trait of mine is known in varying circles as "the gift of blarney". I can spin a tale, trade sarcasms with the best of the sharp tongued devils I have met and, on many an occasion, appear to know far more about a subject than I actually know. I know enough to give me the threads of a conversation which coupled with my gift for gab fools some of the people some of the time. There is a saying used in a group I attend. It goes like this: "I am frequently wrong but I'm never in doubt." Voila! C'est moi! (For folks who did not 'parlez the francais' in high school the interpretation, southern style, is "that's me folks!")

Desperate for a change of topic the frogs singing around the swimming pool tonight are loud enough for me to hear in my bedroom. The impact lessens as reality demands that I remind the reader that I live in an aluminum condominium or mobile home or trailer depending on preference. The walls are thinner than in a "real" house. I love the smugness of folks who think trailers are not real houses. Mine has real people in it. Real pets dominating the environment. Real furniture. Real relationships. Real food. It can be seen using Google Earth. How real does a house need to be to qualify for the "house" honor. Yes, I know that the big, bad wolf could huff and puff and blow my house down faster than a brick house or a sturdy home made of wood. If a wolf did blow it over would he be blowing over less than a house? I can hear you suggesting that I am confusing "house" and "home" with each other. I have a home in my trailer. I do not have a home in a house. Why is it that a bit of shame haunts me when I say to someone that I live in a trailer and in a trailer park? I know a woman who, after years of knowing me, still looks at me as if to say, "You poor thing." My first instinct is to punch her in the nose to deflate her a bit. My second instinct is a wee sense of shame as if I have made an unforgiveable mistake by virtue of my residence. I finally coped with this woman by removing myself from her circle of friends. Her house sits on the side of a golf course and has a lovely yard and a beautiful interior with deep carpet and expensive furniture she bought in her first marriage when she was wealthy. I like it. I won't lie. I don't want to live there nor do I envy her but I can be honest and tell you that her house is lovely and in a lovely neighborhood.

Time to switch subjects. Oh how I do ramble on about one thing or the other. I worked today. I work from home. I am a customer service agent using a telephone and computer from home. I like the work and the flexible hours. I am beginning to notice the personality differences of customers associated with the company that is hosting their conference. Financial companies tend to have participants who are nice but easy to frustrate. Fast food companies have many Hispanic managers. Customers who call in that work for auto part companies are friendly, kinda down to earth in their responses. A demographics of sorts is developing in my mind based on my interactions with customers who work for different types of companies. I spend an average of 45 seconds on line with each person. Those short periods of time spread over a length of time develop discernible patterns, predictable conclusions that I draw from while answering calls. It is not my imagination. A true call center agent with a curiosity about people and a head for drawing conclusions from multiple sources of data can infer with a high degree of predictability how defined groups of people will respond on the average. Or, to keep it southern, "Folks is folks." It is a "fish gotta swim, birds gotta fly" parallel.

Putting on the brakes now! Preparing to close out. Building the courage to face a sink full of dishes, two bossy cats and a litter box. Might watch Criminal Minds and learn how make-believe psychotics kill people. Might come in handy if I ever want to be a make-believe psychotic. "Back off 'varmints' I'm a make-believe psychotic with an inferiority complex. Them's the worst kind!"

Sweet dreams!

Quoting from a blog called Mr. Sponsorpants because I needed to see it often. Oh yeah, I am a sober alcoholic hence the AA part.

Other people's behavior -- either today, or in the past -- no longer dictates my behavior.

If there are monsters in your past, you can be free of them forever...

if you learn to (truly) forgive.

The book "Alcoholics Anonymous" (AA's Big Book) observes, first and foremost, that "...the world and its people are often quite wrong..."

It then goes on to suggest that the people who wronged us were themselves spiritually sick.

It can be a long hard journey to true forgiveness sometimes, but in my experience, that belief is where it starts.

Call it envy or call it jealousy!

Envy and jealousy seem, to me, to be two sides of the same coin. I am thinking of these two words because overhearing conversations at church today I heard families talking about their vacations either upcoming or recently taken. I felt a pull of angst in my heart. I adore to go on vacation to a beach area about just south of us and have not been in two years due to finances. I have not taken a  "stacation" which is my fault. Until today I did not even give that a thought in my head. To be honest while listening to the description of a week's vacation to the mountains for one family I know I simply was green with envy or jealousy...call it what you will...you get my drift.

Interestingly enough I am completely in love with this little motel that sits just off the ocean and is about a 3 hours drive from our home. It is a practical motel for fishermen and their families. There is a pier adjacent to the motel. Separate owners but certainly nicely co-joined. The rooms are simple, made to accomodate sand and the detritus of going to and from the beach. The walk to the beach is ridiculously short. It is a no-frills place. I love it. We go, when we go, in the fall or early winter. No tourists, quiet, sliding doors open with the breeze from the ocean bearing the sound of breaking waves into our room. A small balcony with a couple of chairs overlook out to the ocean. Well, enough of that because the irony of this awesomeness is that I am, at heart, deliriously in love with the mountains of North Carolina. I crave to move there having lived in those mountains as a young girl. My sister lives in the mountains. Visiting her is bitter-sweet as I hold back tears born from the deep yearning I have to stay and never leave again and, yet, the motel on the coast of North Carolina entrances me.

But, at this present time, my finances do not favor travel of any kind other than local comings and goings. So I listened to the several conversations going on about vacations and lusted after the idea of one, As a recovering alcoholic I know full well that expectations of any kind are a set-up for misery in my mind. My best times have been largely unplanned, spur of the moment choices. Given time to think things through I spin tales in my mind; grandiose, dripping in unrealistic expectations. This thinking sets an evil trap for me as there is no chance that my expectations are realistic or attainable in a real world. Best for me to plan quickly and execute before I trail off into a dream world.

My envy and jealously were a part of me that began to effortlessly spin a tale to trap myself. I am the spider with her web and I am the insect caught in the web. I don't want to go to Dollywood for vacation or to go at the peak of tourist season. I forgot that this morning as I spun the web I stuck to in my head.

Stuff

Writing for the sake of writing and making an effort to do so daily is not as easy as I thought it would be for me. I suspect the word "discipline" plays a significant part in my lapses. Disciplined is not the first word anyone would assign to me on the best of days. On my other days they would laugh and make fun. I believe many of us believe we can sit down at the keyboard and write eloquently straight from the brain and be fresh and new each day. I do write straight from my brain...no notes or research or even thinking things through. Most of my posts take under 15 minutes. Imagine what I could accomplish if I chose to develop my writing or what I could ruin. I believe stream of consciousness and impromptu venues suit me best though I could be lying to myself in order to avoid discipline in my daily life. Yep! I will bet that is my dirty, little secret. I don't relish the idea of writing being a discipline. I want to be a writing savant and spend my days pouring out words onto paper that are undeniably the best of the best. Of course once I finished for the day someone might have to feed and bathe me and put me to bed as "savant" is associated with one highly evolved and unexplainable talent at the cost of a balanced mind and body. As much as I dislike the idea of a daily discipline (which I have not achieved to this point) I believe I would choose it over having an amazing talent at the keyboard with no other faculties fully intact.

I wonder how my mind goes off on these tangents. I intended to write about the smells of the night air as I walked home from my mother's home. I intended to mention the faint scent of gardenias wafting through the air evoking a deep southern response from me. A response so tied to the spirit of a southern girl that the scent may be an integral part of my DNA. Steps further towards my home the air held the scent of rinse softener from a nearby neighbor's home as their clothes spun in the dryer. A tall pine tree in the corner of my front yard splayed out in partial view as the street lamp that lights my living room also lit the pine tree until the surrounding darkness took over where the light left off.

It is a metaphor for life. We stand in the glow of the light as it pushes out into the darkness. We avoid acknowledging our fear that the darkness will swallow us whole. At the furtherest end of the light all of us meet darkness and we cannot find our way. Many of us learn to carry light with us to banish the darkness.

Well, our siamese kitten (tongue in cheek, as the once tiny kitten is as big as a full grown cat) wanted to climb into my lap and snuggle. He never knew his mother. A wonderful woman bottle fed him and let him sleep with her when he was too young to be adopted to a family. He fit into our hands at the time. Today, not so many weeks later, he is a poser posing as a kitten in an adult cat's body. Anyway, he begged to get into my lap asking for hugs and stroking of his back and scratching behind his ears .I pulled him close to me so I could continue to type.  In short order he grew weary of the laptop and jumped off my lap in search of something a bit more interesting!

I am fading fast. Night!

Six Minutes

Six minutes before I shut down and go to my mother's and watch a movie. Six minutes to express myself in writing. Six minutes to think, think, think...or not!

I cleaned my neighbor's home today. She pays me. I have found that I enjoy the work of cleaning other people's homes. Much like the proverbial carpenter who does beautiful work on other homes but his own home is always in progress; I have a cluttered home in need of someone to clean it. Oh the horror that it should be me. Seems like I cleaned it just a few months ago or part of it at least.

I also clean the building of the church I attend or rather I do the vacumming and clean the bathrooms. No pay. Goodness knows I gain so much more from my life in that church family than I can ever repay. Cleaning is an act of love and obedience to God. Again, apparently I have not gotten that message about my own home.

One minute...there is a lesson in this post. I don't have a clue what it might be but I am sure there is a lesson in it. As we say in a group I love deeply, "More will be revealed...".

No time left. Shut down.