Life imitating the movies

On our trip home, as we flew from Mexico to Dallas-Fort Worth, the intercom overhead inquired if there was a doctor on board. Nope. Then they asked if there was a nurse on board. The heads of my friends swiveled around. I reached up and turned on my flight attendant light. I was informed there was a "situation". I quickly discovered a passenger was having chest pain and shortness of air. To say I am out of practice would be an understatement, but it appeared, I was what they had. Maybe the most important thing I did was have her chew aspirin. It seems so simple to me...but nobody had done it. I assessed the situation quickly and decided there was no way to do CPR, if needed, in the aisle. I also hoped that I was not going to have to use the defibrillator on an actual person. Our flight was diverted to Houston where we were met by EMT's. They decided she needed to be seen at the hospital. She looked a bit shaky being taken off the plane. I wished her well, she thanked me. The crew thanked me. So much for it only happening in the movies. I'm grateful she wasn't pregnant. I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin' babies.

Paradise found

For the fifth year we headed to Mexico, Cancun this time. The group had grown considerably in size...all that gushy enthusiasm about our previous trips I suppose. Thirteen traveled for 2013. It was a good time, and as always happens, time passed too quickly. A week is just not long enough to be pampered 24/7. To watch the sun rise over the sea and 11 hours later to sink into the lagoon. I watched the moon wax to nearly full the night before we left. The Royal is my favorite hotel chain in the Riviera Maya. It is the only hotel where I fall in love with the bed...and the shower. Did I mention spoiled? We actually did the math for a year long stay. Unfortunately, it's just not in the budget.

Moments in time

I have been sitting here playing a mindless game, when I should really be sleeping. For some reason, this frees my mind to wander about...poking at memories. Good, bad or indifferent, I have a top 40 list of chart toppers. These memories often come to mind, unbidden, just pop up out of nowhere. Some are, what was I thinking, moments. A few of them are just unresolved. Many are warm and fuzzy. And, I guess, there are a few, what ifs and wished I had...or hadn't. I don't dwell there long, that may explain why some of them are unresolved, usually just a brief touching of the memory as I go about doing the mundane. But tonight, this morning...since it's 1 AM, I wondered if anybody else had those exact same memories that they turned over in their minds repeatedly. If, when our lives crossed paths, something happened that made both are subconscious sit up and pay attention. Do we share a moment in time?

On turning 51

Yes, in a few hours, I will be 51. No point in being embarrassed about it, it's a fact. Even if I lied about my age, I'd still be 51.

There are lots of times I'd like to go back to. I'd like to be younger. I'd like to be thinner. I'd like to be more physically capable...less likely to break. Though if I were honest, I wasn't so good at that even when I was younger...but I did recover quicker.

I'm not doing the, if I could go back and change things. One seemingly inconsequential change and the next thing you know a butterfly dies...or something like that. I have a pretty good life. If I were going to wish anything in that line, I wish, maybe, that I'd been born later. Or that the world had advanced quicker. Unlike a lot of people I do not feel I was born too late. I only want to play at being a pirate. I like things like heat, air conditioning, running water, etc. I wish I had discovered things, or that they were available sooner.

And if I am honest with myself, there are many things in the past that I would not want to go back to. I would not want to go back to having small children. I would not want to go back to the constant financial struggle. I would not want to go back to school...at any level.

I am happier now. For the most part, I am much more content. I have more friends. I have more hobbies and activities. I am traveling a little. I am more comfortable with who I am and maybe even where I want to go. All of which make me smarter, I think.

So I will celebrate being 51, each and every birthday beats the alternative. I will be grateful for every opportunity. I will continue to live life. I will enjoy as many things as I can. I will keep up and not live in the past. I don't spend much time looking back. Hopefully, I learned the lessons I needed and won't repeat my mistakes. After all, I've claimed to be smarter.

So, it's New Year Eve

But I've already written my piece about that.

I have one of those nagging things on my mind...simply because a Christmas card fell from where it was tapped up. It bothers me because it made me think of something else that once fell from my wall. I had a memento, from my grandfather's funeral, hanging on the wall of my bedroom. It had been there for quiet some time. Then one day it fell. Mom replaced it several times and it continued to fall off the wall. Mom gave up trying to replace it and laid it on top of my dresser. A few days later my other grandfather, my mom's dad, died. The memento never went back on the wall.

So tonight when the card fell, I had a bad feeling. The card is exactly where it landed. I haven't tried to put it back up. If it were to fall again...

End of...

2012 is slowly winding down.

It has not been one of my best years, nor has it been one of my worst.

I lost a job, but found one I like better...only to be sold to another company before even making it out of orientation. I start with them January 1. I am a bit concerned about the outcome...only the new year will tell. I need to not be so emotionally invested in my job.

In the new year, 13 friends are heading to Mexico. Hopefully, 13 friends will return from Mexico. It isn't 24/7, but it is close.

It appears, about mid-year, 2013 will bring us another grandchild.

I hope for the new year...

for everyone to be happily, and steadily, employed.
to have an amazing vacation with my husband, non-biological family and friends.
that my eldest son can find the house he's shopping for, to make a home of his own.
to have a healthy grandson/daughter.
that the people I love will be healthy and happy. If they can not have want they want, that they have what they need...and the knowledge to know the difference. And most of all, may they..and I, find contentment.

Confrontational

I hate when someone says something that I find offensive, and I am really sure they did not mean to offend. Today, that comment was made while a mother was admiring the terrific adult that their child had become.  A great sentiment, no doubt. Except the mom said, "I figured, given my parenting, she'd be goth or something." This implies that there is something wrong with being goth. It is so hard for me not to ask, "Would it be so terrible is she were goth and still a great human being?" I would find this statement offensive if she'd used a lot of different words there...republican, democrat, atheist, Christian. She made a statement that she figured the child would go wrong and threw a group of people to the wolves as an example. This bothers me. This was a written statement in a public forum. Which makes it even worse, to me. Maybe because writing gives a person a better opportunity to carefully measure and select their words. I don't want to call her out and make her uncomfortable. I don't even know her that well and I really do not think that she meant a slight to my goth friends. Contrary to popular belief, I am not always confrontational. That is why I have a blog, so that I can rant and rave and get things off my chest without causing harm to others.

But in the process of writing this, I have tried to rephrase that statement into something acceptable and find myself inserting...

crazy
homeless
bum
druggie
alcoholic

These all seem like better "bad" options. These words are generally accepted as being bad...but they are still people. Is it okay because they are less...what? Socially valued? Goths are not socially valued by all, neither are atheist...or Republicans?

I guess it all depends on the angle in which you are viewing life and what you value.

Christmas 2012

Here I sit, alone, on Christmas Eve. The family has wandered off to bed or other pursuits. My tree is lit up all bright, with a few remaining gifts set beneath it. I am reminded of Christmases (As wrong as that looks, I checked, that is the proper plural of Christmas) past. Maybe it was watching the last half of A Christmas Carol. Anyway...

When my children were small, Santa did not wrap Christmas presents. An old friend and I once discussed this...apparently traditions are different about whether they are wrapped or not. So anyway, again...once the boys were tucked securely into bed and all possible water and potty excuses were exhausted, we would set about assembling and displaying around the tree. Then my husband would head off to bed, much like tonight, and I would sleep on the couch to protect the loot. The boys would rise at the crack of dawn, but they were not allowed in the living room until Daddy was present.

Those were fun years...though I will gladly climb into my nice warm bed tonight.

Well, since I have done Christmas past, why not Christmas present? Or maybe Christmas presents. I miss gifts. Not the actual getting, but the mystery and the anticipation. My husband and I have stopped trying to guess what the other wants. We now plan a yearly vacation and call it a year.

And like Scrooge, I fear the spirit of what is yet to be the most. There are many things we can not change, no matter how we keep the Christmas spirit in our hearts.

But on to bigger and better things...

It is almost Christmas Day. I wish everyone a happy heart, the company of family and friends and most of all contentment.

Merry Christmas

Lost stories

I have been searching my blog for once told stories, I know I have written these things...or thought I had. So either my mind has wandered further afield than I thought or the search engine sucks.

I was looking for my version of the Night before Christmas and the story of Christmas Adam.

Alas neither are to be found. =(

Violence

We've had two more mass shootings recently. The one at the elementary school is just beyond belief. So many lives lost...so many children. There are so many thoughts and emotions running around inside my head...anger, grief, frustration, shock, disbelief. Heartache. Surely, everyone feels that. There are so many feelings and thoughts I could explore, but since I don't want to sit here in an emotional basket, I'm going to address something that annoys me. Blaming the parents. How can someone say the parents are to blame? Maybe it's because I have dealt too personally with people with mental issues...and it is the people closest that should be able to see, but are the least likely to believe, a person capable of such atrocities. The emotional attachments color what you see in their behavior. As I said, this comes from experience. And it isn't that you think that person is perfect, noooo, you know they are broken, but they'd never...until they do.

I am a mom. I had parents. My parents tried to raise me right, as I did my children. I'd guess most people would agree that their parents tried. But how many can say that they never, ever, did anything that their parents would have disapproved of? Never? Really? If not, you have lived a very sheltered life, or your parents were really liberal. I have to snicker at that comment, now that I think about it...my grandmother threw a fit because I went to Sunday school at a Baptist church when WE were Catholic. It seems it's an adult's job to disapprove of children's behavior and it is a child's job to test the limits of their imposed boundaries. If parents had absolute control of their children's behavior the world would be a perfect place full of quiet, polite, people. The world would be a dull place and we'd still be living in the stone age.

You can blame a parent when a toddler is running rampant in a restaurant. That parent should exercise control and teach the child preferred behavior. But once a child hits a certain age, where independence and freedom from constant supervision is reached, a parent can only hope that what they have taught their child will prevail in decision making.

I will also add that it is not easy to get help with mental health issues. Being a nurse, I have seen this from the inside. It is difficult to get a child into inpatient care. There are not enough beds. In emergency situations, read that as life threatening, I have seen them put a kid on a mattress, on the floor. Not an ideal situation. I hate to make the comparison, but a child in a psych facility is like have a petty criminal in prison. They learn from the more experienced and mimic their peers. As an adult, the situation is not much better. It is very difficult to have an adult committed against their will. And when you do, it's usually only for 72 hours.

I don't have the answers. There are no easy answers. There is also no easy culprit. You can't blame the gun, it's an inanimate object, a paperweight, until held in a hand. And on that note, I will say there is a difference in gun control and gun banishment. Every argument I hear, sounds like they are the same. Maybe it is the violence in today's entertainment. But there were killers long before video games. I just get tired of hearing the parents getting the blame. One of the things I do blame, is news. There is no quicker way to get famous, infamous maybe...but do they care about the difference? Their name and face are spread around the globe. I can't help visualizing some disturbed kid, sitting alone, thinking, they'll all know who I am when I am done. They'll all know my name. They'll never forget. The news needs to quit making these killers into celebrities.

Odd thoughts

I sometimes think I have odd thoughts, or go about looking at stuff from bizarre angles. A good example of this might be my thoughts about my blanket. Yes, blanket...that warm thing you sleep under. But there is the rub. The blanket is not warm, unless it's electric. A blanket on a bed has no warmth, it's just a piece of cloth. If it was warm, the sheets wouldn't be so cold when you slide in. What is warm, is you. The blanket simply traps that heat to keep you warm. This, is what I think about while snuggled down in bed waiting for sleep.

Odd?

I'm going to whine

.

^^^That period is all that was left when I deleted the entire post that went along with that title.

I wrote a paragraph and decided I didn't want to write about that. No whining, bellyaching, crying or other forms of mournful blustering. For all the little annoyances and a few slightly larger ones, life is good. Not perfect. Nobody ever promised perfect, except maybe in fairy tales, but, then, I've always been more a Grimm's type of girl.


I feel a need to write. What part of me needs to be examined, or is it just boredom? So here I am debating subjects. Searching my brain for those little sparks that have yet to be explored. Unfortunately, those tiny bits of ideas die quickly in the forward rush of everyday life if not set down someplace for safekeeping.

I need to find my sense of humor first. That is when I like to write, when something is tickling my bizarre sense of amusement.

Not tonight apparently.

Popular is bad?

I've had a thought pinging around inside my head recently and I can't quite...think it through. So, here I am, putting fingers to keyboard.

It seems to me, that when something becomes wildly popular, there are certain people (a certain group, type, mindset?) that feel the need to ridicule it. Several things come to mind. I have always been confused by the hatred of Nickleback. Typically, you either like or dislike music. Buy it or not. But there seems to be a group of people that feel the need to express their hatred of the band...vehemently. And as best as I can tell, it isn't based on anything.

Next is the Twilight series. Yes, I read them. All four of them, back to back, in 11 days. They are fluff. Easy reads, written for adolescent girls. I do not like the idea of sparkly vampires, it goes against everything I think of when it comes to a vampire. There were times when Bella became so needy and annoying I wanted to strangle her. And I actually threw one of the books down with annoyance...but I finished it. I have even watched the movies, even after how horrible the first one was. Twilight is not the only fluff books I have read...nor has it been the worst movies. Twilight has a huge following and therefore it has haters. Again, I don't quite understand the vehemence. Nobody is making you read the books or watch the movies. Do you feel smarter because you have not succumbed to the fluff? Do you need to take a stand to prove you are smarter than the average teenage girl?

There are others, but I think you get my point.

You know, if you feel the need to climb up on a soap box to declare your outrage, to prove your intellect or to redirect society, I think you could find a more suitable topic to expend your energy on.

It's all about focus.

I feel better.

It isn't always age

A few years ago I was diagnosed with a vitamin D deficiency.  This seems to be pretty rampant. Why? Vitamin D is manufactured in our bodies, for the most part, from being in the sun. We don't spend enough time in the sun, and when we do, we sunscreen, because we've been told that sun is bad.  So is a lack of vitamin D...but not as bad as skin cancer. Now, I know when my D level is sliding, because I recognize the symptoms. I get pain in my legs. The pain, I had previously blamed on work...and age. I took prescription strength Vitamin D until my levels reached normal. Now, I take a daily OTC supplement.

I went to the doctor the other day for a check-up. I mentioned how fatigued I'd been feeling. Not sleepy. Not tired. Just disinterested in doing anything. She asked about depression. I had already examined that option, as disinterest in things you normally enjoy, is a definition of depression. Nope, I said, not depressed. I am perfectly happy...not doing anything. This goes against my personality. I am not generally happy being still. I had considered a lot of options other than depression; new job, frequent changes, stress and of course, age. Sorry, but as you get older, you start hearing it used as an excuse for everything. Fortunately, for me, I have a good doctor, she knows me and she listens. She did some lab work and my B12 level was low. Research ensued, because, well, that is how I am. And I learned something that could probably be as prevalent as the Vitamin D deficiency. B12 is in food, almost exclusively in meat. Smart vegans/vegetarians should be supplementing their diets. B12 is released and absorbed when the acid in our stomachs breaks the meat down. Two problems here; tons of people are on medications to reduce stomach acid, me included, and as we age (there is that dirty word again) we produce less stomach acid. Guess that proves I am not old, since I still have to take medication to reduce the stomach acid. Ha!
Lack of B12 can produce a lot of issues:

Diarrhea

Fatigue

Numbness of the extremities

Sore mouth

Loss of appetite

Nausea

Cessation of menstruation

Confusion

Memory loss

Hallucinations

Disorientation

Anemia

Nervousness

Behavioral changes

Enlarged mucus membranes

One article I read, said a lot of people attribute their symptoms to aging. Big surprise. There is even speculation, that some people diagnosed with dementia, may actually be suffering from B12 deficiency. 

Besides my fatigue, I have also felt over anxious the last few months, something I blamed on the new job. But it wasn't going away as I settled in. I'm hoping it will dissipate along with my fatigue. I haven't found a clear answer on how long it will take to feel better, it seems 7-60 days. I guess it depends on just how low my levels were...my doctor was not specific. I guess I can be grateful at the lack of hallucinations and enlarged mucus membranes.

To Whom it May Concern,

I signed papers yesterday allowing you to snoop into my life, "by any means deemed necessary" to prove my worthiness to continue at my job because my company sold me to you. So if you find this little piece of me, I want to say a few things.

I guess, first and foremost, you can't take me at face value. Things are not always what they seem. In my world, if it looks like a duck, walks like a duck and sounds like a duck, it may very well be a firetruck. Sometimes, I don't want people knowing what I am talking about...or looking too closely at my firetruck. No, I am not crazy. I have a vivid imagination...and I'm not afraid to use it.

I am fluent in sarcasm and I use it liberally. To make a point...or not.

I have a sense of humor, whether you understand it or not. I can laugh or I can cry...personally, I prefer to laugh.

I get angry and frustrated sometimes. This is my place to blow off steam. I may use any or all of the above in doing so. What I don't do, is trash talk. You will never see a proper noun to go along with my rants. The proper place for the name of my employer is on my paycheck and my resume...and appropriate professional websites.

And sometimes, I'm boring.

But, I work hard. I am proud of what I do. And I always do my very best. And I am hoping that we will have a mutually satisfying relationship for many years to come...as I have many years until retirement.

I'm going to tell a secret

I woke last night in a bit of a panic. I was twisted in my blanket and something...I think a pillow, was in my face. Too close. I came awake...fighting to get away. I'm a bit claustrophobic. A bit, um hum...a bit; fighting, clawing, scratching, biting, freaking claustrophobic. At least, I guess this would fall under claustrophobia, I am a little uncomfortable in tight spaces...like the MRI. But I can manage it, unmedicated even. I close my eyes, breathe deep, and try to not touch the sides that indicate the limitations of the space. But I have never done well with stuff, or even people, in my face. I can usually extricate myself quickly from such a situation. It does not go well when I can't...did I mention kicking? It takes extreme circumstances, like sleeping outside in the middle of winter, to be able to even pull a cover over my head. Even then I try to keep a space open...for air. I can't breathe when the air becomes stuffy...warm. It is so suffocating. That is how I woke, something too close to my face, suffocating me. Unable to move, because I was tangled, trapped. I woke, ready to fight...since I couldn't flee.

Adrenaline is not good when you want to go back to sleep.

Blogging

I went back and was reading some old entries. When I started this blog, I fully intended it would be anonymous. That allowed me to express some things that I might not otherwise divulge. Honestly, since my blog became public, I have deleted a few entries. There are some things you just can't share. There are still a few entries that are very personal to me...things other people might read and never know how bare my soul feels when I read those same words. But for some reason I feel an attachment to the words that will not allow me to delete them. Maybe I need to be reminded. Maybe they are issues that still need work. Maybe, one day, the words won't sting the vulnerable parts.


Maybe one day...

So many wrongs, one right

Power corrupts.

It is the first thing that comes to mind when I consider the impending presidential election. Don't worry, this will not be a spin campaign for one of the candidates or a smear campaign against the other. I'll leave that mess to the individuals that get paid big bucks to bend, twist and distort reality.

I wish integrity would find it's way back into government. I jokingly suggested that the candidates be connected to lie detectors during the debate...wouldn't it be nice if you knew you could make an educated decision based on facts?

I am disgusted about the amount of money spent on the campaigns. It is obscene...especially when so many people are struggling to stay afloat. Wouldn't people still vote for a president without spending millions of dollars? If both campaigns were limited to a equal dollar amount, would it make a difference?

When did winning become more important than people? You know, those people, the ones voting. So much fighting. So many power plays. Such division. Instead of asking, what is best for our country? They ask, what do I, or the party, want? I sometimes think they disagree just to test their power. I'll show you.

And stupidity. How can educated people be so stupid? Some of the stuff that comes out of their mouths...

I'll be glad when the election is over. I'm not expecting much, no matter who wins. They are so insulated, isolated and polarized. They have no clue what it is like to live in the real world where actions have consequences, trust is an issue, money is limited and nobody is constantly whispering in your ear seeking favor.

The one right in all this? The right to vote. To live in a country where choice is an option.

I just wish I could  feel confident about my choice. I wish I could make a commitment based on truth, honesty, knowledge and vision.

Happy birthday

We all have them. Some of us lie about them. Some of us celebrate them. There are lots of way to celebrate. Some do it quietly. Some throw outrageous parties. Some have amazing friends...but that's a different story.

There is one tradition in the whole birthday celebrating thing that bothers me. It is one of those things that most people don't seem to think about. Blowing out the candles...on the cake. Usually that entails blowing all over the cake. I am not sure I like the idea of someone blowing across my food. Yes, I know it's weird and it should not be a big deal. But what it the birthday celebrant is coming down with something? A little cold with your cake? Or worse, when it's a child blowing out all those candles, because I dislike someone else's spit on my food even more.

Another one for the gross file. You're welcome.

Writing

I used to make an entry almost daily. I would sit and purposely think about subjects. It bothers me when I realize weeks have gone by without writing. I wonder if I write more or less when life is good, bad or indifferent. I think about writing all the time. I compose in my mind, but always when my computer is not readily available. Then, later, it is forgotten. Maybe that is when, or why, I don't write...when life is busy or I am distracted. I really do need to be more committed. Writing makes me happy. It helps me focus. I even occasionally amuse myself.

What you see

I can't speak for every woman over 50...

or over 40, for that fact.

I can only speak for myself, but I bet a lot of those women would agree with me.

What you see is totally different than how I feel.

You see where I am soft. You see a shape, that is out of shape. You see where I am slower. You see the lines on my face. You see me and think old.

I still feel desire. I still feel vibrant. I still feel alive.
I still want to party. I still want to celebrate. I still want to be loved.
I think I can keep up. I think I can participate. I think I can achieve.
I have not mellowed. I have not given up. I have not disappeared.

I am not always happy with what I see in the mirror. But in my head, I still have possibilities.

Don't dismiss me. I might surprise you.

A rose by any other name

About the time my grandson was born, people asked me what he was going to call me. I thought this an odd question. I just figured he would decide what he'd call me, kind of, as we went along. I mean the choices are sort of limited. I grew up with a grandma and a mamaw, even though mamaw was not related by blood...neither were a lot of my aunts. There is nana, which I always thought was made up by somebody that didn't want to be called grandma. And we'll just veto granny. It did not occur to me that I would need to pick a name to refer to myself. With my kids it was automatic to say, "Give it to momma."

Well this weekend, it was confirmed that he has indeed picked a name. I am....

Her.

I wasn't sure about this until we played 'name the family' at his birthday party. He would point, and ask, "Who that?" I would answer. Then my husband pointed at me and asked Hunter, "Who is that?" Hunter responded, "Her."

Quit laughing.

I know where it comes from. I say, "Go get papaw." The husband says, you got it, "Go get her."

It's sweet and adorable. He's two and doesn't know better. I wonder how long I'll be her.

Habits

I occasionally find myself stopping in the middle of doing an ordinary thing and just having to think about it. Not the, how to, but the why, often catches my attention. I know that we do many things the way we learned to do them, the way we seen them done...they become habits that we seldom examine. Seldom, that is, until that one moment when what I am doing catches my attention.

This morning I stopped as I was preparing to brush my teeth. What caught my attention, was the application of toothpaste to toothbrush.

More precisely, the bristles of my toothbrush as they brushed along the edge of the tube.

My toothbrush has been in my mouth...obviously. Now, I don't share my toothpaste...I have my own bathroom, but I would say that is probably not the case in most homes.

I know a few people that wouldn't dare eat or drink after another person. I wonder if they share toothpaste?

Is there a better way to do this? How do you get that neat little flourish of toothpaste on the brush without physical contact between the two? Did I miss something in my upbringing? Am I missing a special toothpaste utensil? Have I just not mastered the use of gravity on a viscous product?

It wouldn't surprise me.



Maybe, at a later date, we'll discuss soap.

What if...

I found myself thinking about those pivotal moments in life when you make a decision and it has potentially life changing consequences. If you believe life is preordained you might argue that what is supposed to happen, will happen. I prefer to think that I have some control over the path I travel, especially if I have to pay the consequences for my actions.

There are several decisions that I wonder, if I'd gone down a different path, where I might be today.

I wonder how life would have changed if we had not bought our current house. There are lots of reasons to wonder about that. So much has happened here...not all of it good, but not all of it bad either.

I wonder where I would be if I'd applied for work at the hospital I actually intended to, instead of where I work now.

There is never, ever, a way of knowing. You can't go back. Life has changed you.

The thing that has been on my mind today involves a Halloween party...seemingly a trivial thing. A dozen, or so, people had gotten together at a mutual friend's house. Not everyone there knew each other. After the party, I mentioned to my husband that one of the men I'd talked to, was "Thanatos". My husband mentioned, much to my surprise, that he had talked to Thanatos many times online and wished he'd had the chance to meet him. That could have been the end of it...just a Halloween party and a random meeting of someone. But I sent a message the next day to Thanatos and he suggested we come to an event where he would be...and we did. That meeting has led to so many good things and has changed my life...our lives, beyond measure.

Just a random string of choices.

One of those forgotten memories...

I have no idea why it popped up.

At some point around the time I was, I'm thinking, about 14, my mom decided, for whatever reason, to switch our bedrooms. I was moved from the front bedroom to the back bedroom. Mom decided that it would not make sense to move the furniture, so we just moved our stuff. So I inherited my mom and dad's bookcase headboard...the one with the gun in it. I don't think anybody thought about it. Now days, that sounds absolutely crazy. I will tell you something else that's different...I did not feel the need to play with the gun. I could not have even told you if it was loaded or not. I found it, knew what it was...it was wrapped in a rag, and I left it alone. Then one night, my dad crept into my room to close my window. I woke to the sound of the window moving and the shape of a man standing in front of it, without my glasses, that was really all I could see. My dad's brain must have registered the location of of his handgun as he heard me quickly slide the compartment on the headboard open. He called out to me...and I think we both sighed in relief. I doubt either of us slept anytime soon after that adrenaline rush. He didn't move the gun, I think he was proud of my ability to take care of myself...but he didn't come into my room unannounced again. After that, if it started raining, I had to close my own window.

Hope

I hope one day to say something so astounding, so wise, so amazing, that it would be worthy of sharing or even held close to an individual's heart, that it might make a difference.

Small happiness's

We take things for granted everyday. I mean, we flip a wall switch and we expect the electricity to do whatever it does, even when we don't understand it, and the lights come on. Wala! I am just as guilty as the next person. We don't usually appreciate the little things...until the lights don't work.

There are a few things I find myself always grateful for...and I'm going to share. Because, well, as I have mentioned before...my blog.

Hot water. 

I am a water baby...no not Pieces or Aquarius. I love water. If I could grow gills, I would. I think being able to nap, completely submerged, in a tub of steamy water, would be heaven. Or to be able to dive, without the cumbersomeness of air tanks...to lay on the bottom and look UP and watch the sun stream through the water. But I wander from my topic...there are days when I will settle into water nearly hot enough to be scalding and for a little bit, all is right with my world. The muscles relax, the nerve endings are more concerned with the water temperature and my mind wanders freely...it washes away all that is wrong.

Air conditioning. 

Besides being wrapped in hot water, I don't like being hot. Every time I walk into a room that is artificially cooled for my comfort, I am grateful.

Alarm clock. 

Ahhh, you are all wrong. Even though we should be thankful for the invention that gets everybody to where they need to be on time...that is not what makes me grateful. What makes me blissfully happy, is every single night that I go to bed...and don't have to turn it ON. I swear, every night, I celebrate a little when I don't have to slide that switch to ON. And on a slightly off track happiness...I love the nights when I can go to bed because I am sleepy, and not because the clock indicates it's bedtime. Which happens to coincide with not having to set my alarm. Tonight would be one of those nights...and I am grateful and a bit sleepy.

That time of year

I think a lot about my parents this time of year. dad's birthday was in August, he died in September and mom died in October. I try not to mark the anniversaries but have found it nearly impossible to ignore them. I loved my dad, but had a difficult relationship with my mother. She was abusive, physically, verbally and emotionally. She told me once that she was jealous of me...who is jealous of their child? She was manipulative and when she couldn't manipulate me, she tried to control others that she thought could influence me...like me husband and sons. I was telling someone recently about "Hurricane Norma". She would go into my room and toss it...mattress pulled from the bed into the floor with all the bedding stripped because it wasn't made right. She would remove my clothes from the hangers and dump them all into the floor, because they were not organized properly. She would pull all the drawers out and turn them upside down, emptying them into the floor, then replace the drawer, because they were messy. So I would come home from school to this disaster and be told, "Now, clean it right." I never knew when the storm would blow through, or what set it off. It has been suggested to me that maybe she was searching my room and this is how she hid it. I guess it's a possibility. This started about the time I was in, maybe 5th grade...which was about the time she quit hitting me. I have also been asked if my dad knew about the abuse. I don't know. I never told him, or anybody else. I never asked him either. I don't know, it never occurred to me. It never ever occurred to me, that if he knew, why didn't he stop it? These are things other people have asked me after my parents died. It would have been very painful to admit to myself that my dad knew, and did nothing...it's also hard to imagine that he could have lived in the same house and not known what was happening. But then, I remember my mother showing the bruises to her sister once. I was probably around 8. I have no idea why she showed them to her, I only remember her pulling my shirt up...yes, I had bruises to my back...and buttocks and legs. Mom's aim wasn't so good. Yet, years later, while my mother was hospitalized, that same aunt asked why I did not have a good relationship with my mother and I mentioned the abuse, she flat out told me she did not believe me. One of the last things I remember my mom saying to me, as I bent to kiss her good-bye, was, "Get your ugly pig face away from me." Nice last memory, huh? I tried so hard to maintain a civil, if not loving relationship with her. I'm not sure why. I guess I did it for dad...now, I wonder if it was worth it. The best relationship I had with them was when they lived far enough away that I saw them once or twice a year...and even then, mom managed to show up at my house unannounced, with plans to stay a month, coinciding, and cancelling, my own vacation plans to take my kids camping. I've had people tell me that they would just have gone on with their plans...they didn't know my mother. No matter how old you get, you never outgrow the scars of your childhood, especially when they've been inflicted by the very people that should have been protecting you.

Words...my favorite subject

Have you ever had the bejesus scared out of you? Probably...it's a common phrase. But have you ever wondered what a bejesus was?

Dictionary.com says: An exclamation traditionally attributed to the Irish, used to express surprise or for emphasis.

Um, yeah that was helpful. It does not tell me what a bejesus is and if I have one that can be scared out of me, I want to know what it is.

Further research shows that the origin of bejesus is an alteration of by Jesus. So I can have Jesus scared out of me? Or am I scared by Jesus?

This is one of the few times I have looked into something and not been any wiser for the effort.

Second word of the day: whippersnapper. 

This is one, I think, most people understand.

Dictionary.com says: A young and inexperienced person considered to be presumptuous or overconfident.

No surprise. But why does it mean that? Apparently, that's a good question...and there does not seem to be a good answer. I found a number of different answers, but mostly it seems to come down to the fact that the term is archaic.

You'll have to look that one up on your own. I am feeling a little disillusioned at the moment.

Lest I should forget

Prednisone is NOT the answer...no matter the question.

Prescribed for a back injury, that felt better almost immediately. Good.

Withdrawal from the medication, even after weaning as prescribed. Bad.

Never again.