I have a habit of speaking before thinking things through. I also tend to be a bit on the gullible side.
Case in point: In high school I was on the swim team. My boyfriend was on the track team. One day he was telling me about track meets, and somehow the conversation came around to the people needed to run a meet. He was listing off volunteer positions, and in the middle of the list said, "javelin catchers". I stopped him there, but not for the reason you would think...Not to tell him there was no such thing, but to ask him how that was fair. "But if they catch the javelin, how do they know it wasn't going to go further, and what if one javelin catcher is taller than the other? If one is taller then he can catch the javelin sooner." Yeah, really, I was that gullible.
These type moments happen so often that one time my husband, who is almost a foot taller than me, was standing over my head examining my hair. My very brunette hair. After a few seconds, I stopped talking and asked, "What ARE you doing?!" His answer? "Looking for the blonde roots."
But last night was his moment to shine. SHINE, I tell you. This year, thanks to my "Aunt" Becky we bought a remote control to turn on and off the Christmas tree lights. As we were shutting down the lights to go to bed, Michael tells me, "I really like that remote. I wonder if we can get one for other things like lamps." I told him you can hook up anything you plug in. He says, "Cool, you mean we can hook up a remote for the TV?"...Oh, yes he did! I was like, "What did you just say?" Then he tried to play it off. "Oh, nothing." Uh Huh...Too late now. I heard you.
Finally! I'm not the only one with the ditzy, did I just really say that moments.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Do NOT forget to take your Cymbalta!
I am miserable. Probably not what you wanted to read, huh?
The night before last I forgot to take my meds. I remembered after I was in bed and almost asleep. I didn't think too much of it. Then I forgot to take it altogether yesterday. Probably just the busyness of the year. Again, I remembered in the middle of the night. This morning I woke up and had to rush out the door. I didn't even eat any breakfast. I was still ok. Just ok. I was in pain. I couldn't sleep much last night because I was hurting so much from the fibromyalgia. Hips, legs, back, neck. They all hurt. And they hurt to the point of keeping me awake.
When we got to where we were going I noticed a sharp pain shooting horizontally through my calf with each step. I tried to tough it out. The pain slowly spread to my feet and back. Then I got "stuck" in between 2 people at a store, and had an overwhelming feeling of just feeling trapped. I caught a glance of myself in a mirror. I did not like what I saw. I basically just lost it. It was too much. There is a reason they tell you not to stop taking Cymbalta and Lyrica cold turkey, and today I lived that.
When we finally got home I went straight in, took my medication and topped it off with a muscle relaxer to try to counteract the pain. Then I took a 3 hour nap. Since then the physical pain has lessoned, but I have been on the verge of tears all night.
So basically this is a cautionary tale. If you are prescribed Cymbalta and Lyrica, make sure you don't miss your doses. Be careful to not be lulled into a "I feel good. I must be doing better, so it will be ok." state of mind. Even if you have to get up out of bed at 3am, take them.
Hopefully tomorrow will be better!
The night before last I forgot to take my meds. I remembered after I was in bed and almost asleep. I didn't think too much of it. Then I forgot to take it altogether yesterday. Probably just the busyness of the year. Again, I remembered in the middle of the night. This morning I woke up and had to rush out the door. I didn't even eat any breakfast. I was still ok. Just ok. I was in pain. I couldn't sleep much last night because I was hurting so much from the fibromyalgia. Hips, legs, back, neck. They all hurt. And they hurt to the point of keeping me awake.
When we got to where we were going I noticed a sharp pain shooting horizontally through my calf with each step. I tried to tough it out. The pain slowly spread to my feet and back. Then I got "stuck" in between 2 people at a store, and had an overwhelming feeling of just feeling trapped. I caught a glance of myself in a mirror. I did not like what I saw. I basically just lost it. It was too much. There is a reason they tell you not to stop taking Cymbalta and Lyrica cold turkey, and today I lived that.
When we finally got home I went straight in, took my medication and topped it off with a muscle relaxer to try to counteract the pain. Then I took a 3 hour nap. Since then the physical pain has lessoned, but I have been on the verge of tears all night.
So basically this is a cautionary tale. If you are prescribed Cymbalta and Lyrica, make sure you don't miss your doses. Be careful to not be lulled into a "I feel good. I must be doing better, so it will be ok." state of mind. Even if you have to get up out of bed at 3am, take them.
Hopefully tomorrow will be better!
Friday, November 19, 2010
How I Know God has a Sense of Humor
We always hear about God having a sense of humor. I mean have you seen a turkey...or an ostrich...a baboon? But I have proof that is a bit closer to home. Me and my husband. Only an innate sense of humor would have ever put us together. We could not be more opposite. I am convinced that when people get bored up in heaven God says, “Wait! Look! Look right down there. In Louisiana. No not there-- right next to Texas.” And then He flips on the movie projector of our life.
First of all, all you have to do is look at us, and you will get your first clue. I am short, very short, and on top of that I have short legs even for my height. Michael is tall. Almost a foot taller than me, and he has long legs. Like runner's legs. Not me. I have walk really slow legs. When we walk together, if he is walking at normal speed I have to just about jog to keep up. That came in very handy when I was working retail, since I often had to hustle, and I was already in practice.
Next, look at our work space. Michael is a pile-er. He has stacks of what I am convinced is trash EVERYWHERE, and it is all askew. Folders, papers, post-its. They cover every square inch of his desk. My desk? Clear. If I have several things to do, they are in one stack with the most pressing at the top of the pile. That way I can work my way down. Need a pen? I can show you right where it is, but I won't need to because you will be able to see it all on your own. My bulletin board? It consists of only clear tacks with 3x5 cards placed straight down and across—evenly spaced. Oh, that 3x5 card is messed up? Don't put it back. I will rewrite a new one. In the same color ink as the others.
Closets? His: just hang the clothes on the pole. As long as they are not on the floor—we're good. Mine: Pants on one rod, separated by type and color. Shirts? Organized by color according to the spectrum of the rainbow, within each color the shirts are then separated by sleeve length.
Housecleaning? Me? I start at the top and work my way down to the floor and out of the room. I get corners, behind objects: I lift the cook top to get underneath. Him: (looking at stove) “That comes up?!”
Vehicles? Mine: Don't leave anything in it. Other than a bag of recyclable bags in the back. His? Need a place to sit? “Just toss all those papers in the backseat. I'll get them when I sell the car.”
You get the idea. This makes for some interesting “conversations” at our house, especially if someone is coming over.
I spent the first 10 years of our marriage going behind him to apologize. “No really, he didn't mean that the way it sounded.” I mean, the man has NO tact. None. On top of that I seem to be super aware of other people's perceptions, so I am always trying to fix things. I finally just gave up because, well, did I mention he has long legs? He can cover a lot more ground than I can, and it's just tiring.
But, in spite of all these differences (I could go on, but the internet is only so big), I love him, and he loves me—even though my pickiness drives him up a wall. That's ok, though, that's why he has a job. God must have a sense of humor because if He didn't He would have never put us together, and he certainly wouldn't have known how much of a sense of humor to give us, so that we could put up with each other without involving bloodletting in some shape or form.
First of all, all you have to do is look at us, and you will get your first clue. I am short, very short, and on top of that I have short legs even for my height. Michael is tall. Almost a foot taller than me, and he has long legs. Like runner's legs. Not me. I have walk really slow legs. When we walk together, if he is walking at normal speed I have to just about jog to keep up. That came in very handy when I was working retail, since I often had to hustle, and I was already in practice.
Next, look at our work space. Michael is a pile-er. He has stacks of what I am convinced is trash EVERYWHERE, and it is all askew. Folders, papers, post-its. They cover every square inch of his desk. My desk? Clear. If I have several things to do, they are in one stack with the most pressing at the top of the pile. That way I can work my way down. Need a pen? I can show you right where it is, but I won't need to because you will be able to see it all on your own. My bulletin board? It consists of only clear tacks with 3x5 cards placed straight down and across—evenly spaced. Oh, that 3x5 card is messed up? Don't put it back. I will rewrite a new one. In the same color ink as the others.
Closets? His: just hang the clothes on the pole. As long as they are not on the floor—we're good. Mine: Pants on one rod, separated by type and color. Shirts? Organized by color according to the spectrum of the rainbow, within each color the shirts are then separated by sleeve length.
Housecleaning? Me? I start at the top and work my way down to the floor and out of the room. I get corners, behind objects: I lift the cook top to get underneath. Him: (looking at stove) “That comes up?!”
Vehicles? Mine: Don't leave anything in it. Other than a bag of recyclable bags in the back. His? Need a place to sit? “Just toss all those papers in the backseat. I'll get them when I sell the car.”
You get the idea. This makes for some interesting “conversations” at our house, especially if someone is coming over.
I spent the first 10 years of our marriage going behind him to apologize. “No really, he didn't mean that the way it sounded.” I mean, the man has NO tact. None. On top of that I seem to be super aware of other people's perceptions, so I am always trying to fix things. I finally just gave up because, well, did I mention he has long legs? He can cover a lot more ground than I can, and it's just tiring.
But, in spite of all these differences (I could go on, but the internet is only so big), I love him, and he loves me—even though my pickiness drives him up a wall. That's ok, though, that's why he has a job. God must have a sense of humor because if He didn't He would have never put us together, and he certainly wouldn't have known how much of a sense of humor to give us, so that we could put up with each other without involving bloodletting in some shape or form.
Monday, November 15, 2010
When Your Internal Clock is Off...WAY Off
In the beginning of July I hurt my back. I hurt it bad enough that for the next 2 to 3 days I lived on painkillers, muscle relaxers, ice packs and heating pads. Ever since then I have had trouble sleeping. Before this happened I was coming off of an early morning work schedule. I had to be at work at 6 am, so even though I had stopped working a couple of months prior to our move, I was still up and around by 7 am. After living on painkillers for several days, painkillers that completely knocked me out, I was going to bed late, and waking up later.
Since then I have tried forcing myself to go to sleep earlier. Result: me tossing and turning until 4 am. Did you know that if you hold your hand up to the light of your alarm clock your nails look like you have a blue french manicure? Neither did I. I do now.
I tried just laying down a couple of hours before I wanted to fall asleep and reading myself to sleep: Result: an out of control book budget. I can read for hours. I can read fast. Reading for hours just results in more books read, not earlier sleep.
I tried forcing myself to get up super early, so I would be tired at a normal bedtime. Result: falling asleep for 3 hours in the middle of the afternoon. There is only so much the human body can do on 2 hours of sleep when there is no adrenaline involved, and apparently all this human body can do is stare uncomprehendingly at the television, or, I don't know, the WALL, until the will to stay awake loses to the force that is “The Sandman”.
I even tried over the counter sleeping pills. Do you know what those things are??? Benedryl. Do you know what Benedryl does to me? It knocks; me out, just like the painkillers. The problem? The painkillers and the sleeping pills knock me out for waaaay too long. Then when I am finally able to move the lead weights that are my arms and legs, I am groggy. Super groggy. That results in absolutely nothing getting done.
So, I am back to just kind of hoping I will miraculously start to get tired at a normal, reasonable hour. That results in days like today.
Get up very late.
Feel guilty for getting up late even though I slept for a very normal 8 hours—almost to the minute.
Have a general feeling of lethargy all day long while trying to convince myself to get some chores done.
Start becoming clear minded at about 9 pm.
Between 11 pm and 12:30 am:
Complete 2 loads of laundry, including ironing.
Vacuum carpets
Sweep and mop kitchen, entry way and bathrooms
Clean master bathroom
Hang pictures
Write blog post
Screw down door organizer in pantry
Feel really, really awake!! REALLY awake!
Give up on ever sleeping again.
Around 3 am decide to read in bed by the light of my cell phone.
4-4:30 am Finally fall asleep.
Start all over again.
I am really starting to wonder if God is trying to tell me that my next job will be the night shift!
Since then I have tried forcing myself to go to sleep earlier. Result: me tossing and turning until 4 am. Did you know that if you hold your hand up to the light of your alarm clock your nails look like you have a blue french manicure? Neither did I. I do now.
I tried just laying down a couple of hours before I wanted to fall asleep and reading myself to sleep: Result: an out of control book budget. I can read for hours. I can read fast. Reading for hours just results in more books read, not earlier sleep.
I tried forcing myself to get up super early, so I would be tired at a normal bedtime. Result: falling asleep for 3 hours in the middle of the afternoon. There is only so much the human body can do on 2 hours of sleep when there is no adrenaline involved, and apparently all this human body can do is stare uncomprehendingly at the television, or, I don't know, the WALL, until the will to stay awake loses to the force that is “The Sandman”.
I even tried over the counter sleeping pills. Do you know what those things are??? Benedryl. Do you know what Benedryl does to me? It knocks; me out, just like the painkillers. The problem? The painkillers and the sleeping pills knock me out for waaaay too long. Then when I am finally able to move the lead weights that are my arms and legs, I am groggy. Super groggy. That results in absolutely nothing getting done.
So, I am back to just kind of hoping I will miraculously start to get tired at a normal, reasonable hour. That results in days like today.
Get up very late.
Feel guilty for getting up late even though I slept for a very normal 8 hours—almost to the minute.
Have a general feeling of lethargy all day long while trying to convince myself to get some chores done.
Start becoming clear minded at about 9 pm.
Between 11 pm and 12:30 am:
Complete 2 loads of laundry, including ironing.
Vacuum carpets
Sweep and mop kitchen, entry way and bathrooms
Clean master bathroom
Hang pictures
Write blog post
Screw down door organizer in pantry
Feel really, really awake!! REALLY awake!
Give up on ever sleeping again.
Around 3 am decide to read in bed by the light of my cell phone.
4-4:30 am Finally fall asleep.
Start all over again.
I am really starting to wonder if God is trying to tell me that my next job will be the night shift!
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Cymbalta: Or How My Husband Gets to Remain Sane Without Locking Me Up and Throwing Away the Key
And he doesn't even have to take it. That's how it works in our family. I *suffer* from second hand sleep apnea. (My own term for being the partner of someone who has sleep apnea.) He reaps the benefits of a wife on Cymbalta. I don't really see how that is quite fair. Suffer/reaps the benefits. Do you see the issue here? That's okay, though, because I have learned in the last week that if my husband dies before me I am moving to Australia to find the man of my dreams--literally. The man who invented the sleep apnea machine.
Of course, the drawback to being able to have dreams is the Cymbalta. I have some crazy, stressed out dreams. The latest included me, on a team trying to make a beautiful two dimensional wedding dress cookie out of sugar cookie dough.
The problem with these dreams is this: In the beginning of the dream I am "all that!". I can make the most beautiful pastry you have ever seen! Then the mechanics start-somehow I make dough. Then somehow I roll out this dough into a perfect rectangle. Then I realize my teammates aren't helping me. Now, I am mad! Why is no one helping me?! This is supposed to be a team effort! Wait! What are they doing? Oh no, they are performing CPR. I must help, but the judge is here telling me to hurry up I am running out of time. So, I do what all rational people would do and continue to roll out teeny tiny layers to put on my wedding dress cookie.
It's about this time that I "remember" that I have no idea how to decorate cakes, cookies, or pastries of any sort. Not only that, but I am not artistic, at all! I am not able to make whatever it is in my mind come out of my fingers. This is not good! Then I look over and one of the judges has decided to "help me" with my cookie by drawing the outline of some Picasso-esque face with black piping gel all over my cookie. WHY?! I don't know, but she totally ruined my chance of winning a car.
Now everyone wins a car, but me. :( Then I notice the car my friend chooses has a big black dent and scrape along the side like it was his by a burning softball. I try desperately to get her to choose another car, but the cars are all like that now. They weren't a minute ago. HEY! These contest organizers are trying to cheat us out of our brand new cars!
Now. Don't you feel rested? Me neither. I wake up trying to figure out how to make the cookie. Oh, and the person receiving the CPR? Don't know. Never bothered to even check up on the guy because in my dreams I am compassionate like that.
So, I get the crazy dreams, but Michael gets the wife who does not sit in the car stressing over the fact that he is driving in the left lane and we have to turn right in just 3 miles. Hello! Don't you see we need to turn? And there are other cars! In the right lane! If we wait we may never get over! And you know what happens if we don't get over! No, we don't turn around. How are we going to turn around when the world has just ended?! We really need to get over now! After all we are turning in just 2.5 miles. Do you see my finger tapping against the door frame? It means you are not doing it the way *I* would!! And that is just wrong!
He loved driving with me.
Michael also gets the wife who gets dressed, puts on make up, drives 20 minutes to a restaurant, and will, get this, get out of the car! Even when there are more than like 3 other cars in the parking lot. I no longer get somewhere and just freeze in my seat like if I go in there something terrible is going to happen. We may not know it, but believe me it will happen.
I am surprised he never starved.
The most surprising effect has been that I even went to the gym. By myself. 5 times a week. For several months before we moved. That is a miracle unto itself! Now that was a gym I was somewhat familiar with. Now, I just need to find one here.
Hmmm. Come to think of it this was good for him. I wonder why he doesn't have cut abs?
Oh, AND, I can actually relax! Some. I don't feel the need to be doing *something* from the time I get up, until the time I go to bed. This is big! Just ask Michael. I mean do you know how hard it is to watch a football game when someone has decided they must dust the entertainment stand right now. Like really right now or the dust might form a coalition and take us all out. Or the carpet must be vacuumed. Also right now! I mean, if the NFL would just call me before they set up their playing schedule maybe we could work something out. But no, they don't care that some grass just fell off of someone's shoe.
Of course, now he wishes I would stand in front of the television and clean. Have you seen the Cowboys play this year?
So, thanks to Cymbalta I get crazy dreams, and Michael loses crazy wife. Too cool!
By the way, I was actually put on Cymbalta in order to help control the Fibromyalgia pain. It is only been discovered that I actually, certifiably have anxiety issues because of how much I have changed since being put on the Cymbalta. I thought this was normal, but in a way I feel like my world is opening up. And I have learned 2 things you don't want to hear from your doctor. 1. When describing your reaction to being in the "wrong lane of traffic: "No, that's not "normal". Not in my world." and 2. When awaiting blood test results: "You are one sick pup!"
Of course, the drawback to being able to have dreams is the Cymbalta. I have some crazy, stressed out dreams. The latest included me, on a team trying to make a beautiful two dimensional wedding dress cookie out of sugar cookie dough.
The problem with these dreams is this: In the beginning of the dream I am "all that!". I can make the most beautiful pastry you have ever seen! Then the mechanics start-somehow I make dough. Then somehow I roll out this dough into a perfect rectangle. Then I realize my teammates aren't helping me. Now, I am mad! Why is no one helping me?! This is supposed to be a team effort! Wait! What are they doing? Oh no, they are performing CPR. I must help, but the judge is here telling me to hurry up I am running out of time. So, I do what all rational people would do and continue to roll out teeny tiny layers to put on my wedding dress cookie.
It's about this time that I "remember" that I have no idea how to decorate cakes, cookies, or pastries of any sort. Not only that, but I am not artistic, at all! I am not able to make whatever it is in my mind come out of my fingers. This is not good! Then I look over and one of the judges has decided to "help me" with my cookie by drawing the outline of some Picasso-esque face with black piping gel all over my cookie. WHY?! I don't know, but she totally ruined my chance of winning a car.
Now everyone wins a car, but me. :( Then I notice the car my friend chooses has a big black dent and scrape along the side like it was his by a burning softball. I try desperately to get her to choose another car, but the cars are all like that now. They weren't a minute ago. HEY! These contest organizers are trying to cheat us out of our brand new cars!
Now. Don't you feel rested? Me neither. I wake up trying to figure out how to make the cookie. Oh, and the person receiving the CPR? Don't know. Never bothered to even check up on the guy because in my dreams I am compassionate like that.
So, I get the crazy dreams, but Michael gets the wife who does not sit in the car stressing over the fact that he is driving in the left lane and we have to turn right in just 3 miles. Hello! Don't you see we need to turn? And there are other cars! In the right lane! If we wait we may never get over! And you know what happens if we don't get over! No, we don't turn around. How are we going to turn around when the world has just ended?! We really need to get over now! After all we are turning in just 2.5 miles. Do you see my finger tapping against the door frame? It means you are not doing it the way *I* would!! And that is just wrong!
He loved driving with me.
Michael also gets the wife who gets dressed, puts on make up, drives 20 minutes to a restaurant, and will, get this, get out of the car! Even when there are more than like 3 other cars in the parking lot. I no longer get somewhere and just freeze in my seat like if I go in there something terrible is going to happen. We may not know it, but believe me it will happen.
I am surprised he never starved.
The most surprising effect has been that I even went to the gym. By myself. 5 times a week. For several months before we moved. That is a miracle unto itself! Now that was a gym I was somewhat familiar with. Now, I just need to find one here.
Hmmm. Come to think of it this was good for him. I wonder why he doesn't have cut abs?
Oh, AND, I can actually relax! Some. I don't feel the need to be doing *something* from the time I get up, until the time I go to bed. This is big! Just ask Michael. I mean do you know how hard it is to watch a football game when someone has decided they must dust the entertainment stand right now. Like really right now or the dust might form a coalition and take us all out. Or the carpet must be vacuumed. Also right now! I mean, if the NFL would just call me before they set up their playing schedule maybe we could work something out. But no, they don't care that some grass just fell off of someone's shoe.
Of course, now he wishes I would stand in front of the television and clean. Have you seen the Cowboys play this year?
So, thanks to Cymbalta I get crazy dreams, and Michael loses crazy wife. Too cool!
By the way, I was actually put on Cymbalta in order to help control the Fibromyalgia pain. It is only been discovered that I actually, certifiably have anxiety issues because of how much I have changed since being put on the Cymbalta. I thought this was normal, but in a way I feel like my world is opening up. And I have learned 2 things you don't want to hear from your doctor. 1. When describing your reaction to being in the "wrong lane of traffic: "No, that's not "normal". Not in my world." and 2. When awaiting blood test results: "You are one sick pup!"
Friday, November 5, 2010
Fibro Friday: Weeks 3 and 4: totally slacking
The last two weeks have been a struggle. Towards the end of week 3 I started going in to a flare.
I noticed this time that the flare seemed to start with burning in my shins. Painful, can't ignore it burning. Kind of like, or maybe exactly like, shin splints. This was followed by extreme exhaustion. Cooking fell by the wayside, and my housework was the bare minimum. It was a struggle first of all to get out of bed, and once out to stay awake. After the exhaustion was foot pain. I always have heel pain, but this was throughout the entire soul of my foot and in the tendons.
I also noticed increased "fibro fog". This was most noticeable in my speech patterns. I was constantly stopping in the middle of a sentence because I just couldn't find the word. I know this can be normal, but not when it happens this much.
My last observation is how much the cold weather effects my pain. I suspected before, but I was conscious of it this time, so I am trying to make sure to keep warm as soon as I notice I am chilled. Hopefully that will help some, too.
During this past week, week 4, the major symptoms started to subside. They actually started to subside in the same order I noticed them coming on. I didn't really expect that. I finally started getting some energy back, and I was able to reorganize the office earlier in the week, and do some of the deeper cleaning throughout the week.
Today I started back with the bike riding. One time around the block today. My thighs are a bit sore, but I have high hopes that I will be able to get further with it this month than last month.
I plan is still to learn to be my best with this "disease". I guess that will have to start with becoming aware of what is going on with my body.
I noticed this time that the flare seemed to start with burning in my shins. Painful, can't ignore it burning. Kind of like, or maybe exactly like, shin splints. This was followed by extreme exhaustion. Cooking fell by the wayside, and my housework was the bare minimum. It was a struggle first of all to get out of bed, and once out to stay awake. After the exhaustion was foot pain. I always have heel pain, but this was throughout the entire soul of my foot and in the tendons.
I also noticed increased "fibro fog". This was most noticeable in my speech patterns. I was constantly stopping in the middle of a sentence because I just couldn't find the word. I know this can be normal, but not when it happens this much.
My last observation is how much the cold weather effects my pain. I suspected before, but I was conscious of it this time, so I am trying to make sure to keep warm as soon as I notice I am chilled. Hopefully that will help some, too.
During this past week, week 4, the major symptoms started to subside. They actually started to subside in the same order I noticed them coming on. I didn't really expect that. I finally started getting some energy back, and I was able to reorganize the office earlier in the week, and do some of the deeper cleaning throughout the week.
Today I started back with the bike riding. One time around the block today. My thighs are a bit sore, but I have high hopes that I will be able to get further with it this month than last month.
I plan is still to learn to be my best with this "disease". I guess that will have to start with becoming aware of what is going on with my body.
Monday, November 1, 2010
I Smell Dead People
Ok, I don't really smell dead people, but I smell everything else. This causes some tension in our house since most of the time I am the only one that can smell the horrendous odor that is emanating from...well, somewhere. We have many conversations that go something like this:
Me: Do you smell that?
Michael: Smell what?
Me: (Crinkling nose) That smell. It stinks!
Michael: There is no smell.
Me: Yes there is! It's coming from...over there...somewhere.
Michael: You mean that field of cows we drove by? Three days ago?
Me: Yes! Yes! That's it! Where's the candle? We need to light the candle! We need to light the candle and put it close to my nose! Hurry! Please, I can't handle the smell anymore!!
Michael: (Getting a candle and shaking his head) Do you mind telling me when, exactly, in the 20+ years we've been married you crossed over the line into certifiably insane? It was so gradual I'm not sure when it happened.
Me: (sticks tongue out and pouts while breathing in candle air)
It's very annoying this super power of smell. My poor husband can only eat fish at a restaurant, out of town, after I die. That is really sad because the man loves fish...and shellfish...and cabbage. You know, all the stinky stuff. I can smell it for days. I think it hangs around in my nose just trying to make me ill. You would think that the fish would love me since I don't want anyone around me to eat them, but apparently they want to be eaten because they insist on torturing me with their smell. I just want to say, "I wanted to save you! Why don't you go torture HIM?!"
I also have to be very careful when I am cooking to not smell the raw meat. If I smell the raw meat, then I can't eat the cooked meat. One can only survive on Golden Grahams and Frosted Mini
Wheats for so long.
On the other hand, my wonderful sense of smell could come in very handy. It's a good thing our son doesn't smoke because who wants their mother marching through the school with her head looking like an expanding red balloon, and her body shaking uncontrollably while screaming (Yes, I mean screaming, not yelling. Yelling isn't forceful enough.) "WHAT were you thinking?!"
Then again, if he ever wanted to get rid of me, and send me to prison, all he would have to do is call the police, and tell them I assaulted him with my big head that just blew up and shot pieces of brain and shards of skull at him. I mean, who would the judge believe? 1. Soft-spoken, matter-of-fact, calm young man with an actual hair cut, or 2. Crazy, out of control, screaming woman who they suspect might be auditioning for the token psycho on the "Housewives of Crazyville"? Not that I would care because my brain already blew up, so there!
Me: Do you smell that?
Michael: Smell what?
Me: (Crinkling nose) That smell. It stinks!
Michael: There is no smell.
Me: Yes there is! It's coming from...over there...somewhere.
Michael: You mean that field of cows we drove by? Three days ago?
Me: Yes! Yes! That's it! Where's the candle? We need to light the candle! We need to light the candle and put it close to my nose! Hurry! Please, I can't handle the smell anymore!!
Michael: (Getting a candle and shaking his head) Do you mind telling me when, exactly, in the 20+ years we've been married you crossed over the line into certifiably insane? It was so gradual I'm not sure when it happened.
Me: (sticks tongue out and pouts while breathing in candle air)
It's very annoying this super power of smell. My poor husband can only eat fish at a restaurant, out of town, after I die. That is really sad because the man loves fish...and shellfish...and cabbage. You know, all the stinky stuff. I can smell it for days. I think it hangs around in my nose just trying to make me ill. You would think that the fish would love me since I don't want anyone around me to eat them, but apparently they want to be eaten because they insist on torturing me with their smell. I just want to say, "I wanted to save you! Why don't you go torture HIM?!"
I also have to be very careful when I am cooking to not smell the raw meat. If I smell the raw meat, then I can't eat the cooked meat. One can only survive on Golden Grahams and Frosted Mini
Wheats for so long.
On the other hand, my wonderful sense of smell could come in very handy. It's a good thing our son doesn't smoke because who wants their mother marching through the school with her head looking like an expanding red balloon, and her body shaking uncontrollably while screaming (Yes, I mean screaming, not yelling. Yelling isn't forceful enough.) "WHAT were you thinking?!"
Then again, if he ever wanted to get rid of me, and send me to prison, all he would have to do is call the police, and tell them I assaulted him with my big head that just blew up and shot pieces of brain and shards of skull at him. I mean, who would the judge believe? 1. Soft-spoken, matter-of-fact, calm young man with an actual hair cut, or 2. Crazy, out of control, screaming woman who they suspect might be auditioning for the token psycho on the "Housewives of Crazyville"? Not that I would care because my brain already blew up, so there!
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Don'cha Hate it When...
You get an idea in your head, run to the store to get what you need, and then when you get home realize you don't really have everything you need?!
This would probably happen a lot less if I would stick to one idea at a time, but one idea usually gives birth to another, and then another. I tell you ideas are like rabbits. You start with 1 or 2 and end up with enough to feed an army.
Like today. I went shopping with 2 ideas in mind. 1. I want to refinish the old, wooden accordion style sewing box I scored at Goodwill yesterday for only 4 bucks, and 2. I wanted to try to find a way to hide the border that is in my dining room. Not that the border isn't fabulous...or at least I'm sure it was when it was new...in the 80's!!
But I ended up looking for more ideas: 1. Paint for the sewing box. 2. "Something" for the border. 3.End tables for my living room. 4. Something to contain the keys, notes, and pocket debris that is growing on my bookshelf like mold. and 5. My continuing search for something to use as a game table in my living room.
I ended up with 1. Paint for the sewing box. 2. A big, fat nothing on the border. 3.Nothing I was willing to spend the money on for end tables. 4. More ideas for what to do with the moldy debris on my bookshelf. (Which reminds me, I want to repaint that too.) 5. 3 possibilities for the game table, so, of course, that meant nothing on the game table.
So after 2 hours of shopping and 5 different ideas boiling in my brain, I have a can of Kilz and some spray paint for the sewing box. I'm very happy that I can get started on one of my projects.
We get home, Michael starts the grill for dinner, and I......pull 2 silvery metal "art" pieces off of my wall and prime them. Not the sewing box, but things that were already on my wall. Then after dinner I go to paint them with acrylic paint. I'm not sure exactly what color I want to go with, but I choose one andstart to paint discover I. HAVE. NO. PAINTBRUSHES! Not even one. Now I have to wait until tomorrow after Brendan's PT appointment to paint.
In the infamous words of Stephanie Tanner, "HOW RUUUUDE". (Said with major ATTITUDE!)
Now, I will just have to study.
This would probably happen a lot less if I would stick to one idea at a time, but one idea usually gives birth to another, and then another. I tell you ideas are like rabbits. You start with 1 or 2 and end up with enough to feed an army.
Like today. I went shopping with 2 ideas in mind. 1. I want to refinish the old, wooden accordion style sewing box I scored at Goodwill yesterday for only 4 bucks, and 2. I wanted to try to find a way to hide the border that is in my dining room. Not that the border isn't fabulous...or at least I'm sure it was when it was new...in the 80's!!
But I ended up looking for more ideas: 1. Paint for the sewing box. 2. "Something" for the border. 3.End tables for my living room. 4. Something to contain the keys, notes, and pocket debris that is growing on my bookshelf like mold. and 5. My continuing search for something to use as a game table in my living room.
I ended up with 1. Paint for the sewing box. 2. A big, fat nothing on the border. 3.Nothing I was willing to spend the money on for end tables. 4. More ideas for what to do with the moldy debris on my bookshelf. (Which reminds me, I want to repaint that too.) 5. 3 possibilities for the game table, so, of course, that meant nothing on the game table.
So after 2 hours of shopping and 5 different ideas boiling in my brain, I have a can of Kilz and some spray paint for the sewing box. I'm very happy that I can get started on one of my projects.
We get home, Michael starts the grill for dinner, and I......pull 2 silvery metal "art" pieces off of my wall and prime them. Not the sewing box, but things that were already on my wall. Then after dinner I go to paint them with acrylic paint. I'm not sure exactly what color I want to go with, but I choose one and
In the infamous words of Stephanie Tanner, "HOW RUUUUDE". (Said with major ATTITUDE!)
Now, I will just have to study.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Fibro Friday: Week 2 Still slow, but picking up speed
It's not my plan to only do the fibro posts, but another week has passed me by, and it is Friday again.
This week I wasn't as good about doing the back exercises. I believe I only did them once this week... Insert self flagellation with a wet noodle... I did notice on that one day that the "my body is trying to disconnect at my lower spine" feeling was not as bad. It still hurt, but I did notice an improvement.
I was actually better at bike riding...Insert self adulation with pats on the back...I actually rode the bike 3 times this week, and progressively increased the distance. I only had mild muscle pain, but my hips hurt quite a bit afterwards. They hurt to the point that I was having trouble sleeping. I happened to have a follow up with the spine doctor today, so I mentioned it to him. He thinks it might be pelvic girdle displacement, so I need to look up exercises to help with that now.
The bad news is I decided to start a flare today. It's loads of fun. You should give it a try. I seem to have a pattern that coincides with my menstrual cycle...ps. enter dripping sarcasm after the word fun...
My shins are burning, my knees hurt, the joint in my right thumb hurts when I use it,my upper back is sore, my feet are more sensitive and my head is killing me. I also learned I had a slight fever of 99.1 when I went to the doctor. I think I will have to start taking my temperature to see if there is a correlation. Especially since when I went to the doctor, I felt fine. It was about 4-5 hours later that I started to feel bad.
My hope is that when I look back on this in the next few months that the level of symptoms will be lessened, and the number of symptoms will also be lower.
This week I wasn't as good about doing the back exercises. I believe I only did them once this week... Insert self flagellation with a wet noodle... I did notice on that one day that the "my body is trying to disconnect at my lower spine" feeling was not as bad. It still hurt, but I did notice an improvement.
I was actually better at bike riding...Insert self adulation with pats on the back...I actually rode the bike 3 times this week, and progressively increased the distance. I only had mild muscle pain, but my hips hurt quite a bit afterwards. They hurt to the point that I was having trouble sleeping. I happened to have a follow up with the spine doctor today, so I mentioned it to him. He thinks it might be pelvic girdle displacement, so I need to look up exercises to help with that now.
The bad news is I decided to start a flare today. It's loads of fun. You should give it a try. I seem to have a pattern that coincides with my menstrual cycle...ps. enter dripping sarcasm after the word fun...
My shins are burning, my knees hurt, the joint in my right thumb hurts when I use it,my upper back is sore, my feet are more sensitive and my head is killing me. I also learned I had a slight fever of 99.1 when I went to the doctor. I think I will have to start taking my temperature to see if there is a correlation. Especially since when I went to the doctor, I felt fine. It was about 4-5 hours later that I started to feel bad.
My hope is that when I look back on this in the next few months that the level of symptoms will be lessened, and the number of symptoms will also be lower.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Fibro Friday: Week 1--Starting out Sloooooow
Week one of trying to pull myself out of this funk that is Fibromyalgia. I don't know how much of this will be a head game, or how much of this will be physical, but whatever it is the journey has officially started.
This week is working on starting a routine, and starting it slowly. Very slowly. I don't want to be beat before I start which is often the case.
So here is how it went for my first partial week(next week will be a full week, but since I started on Sunday...:
3 times this week I did 3 sets of 5 different back exercises given to me by my spine specialist. The purpose of these exercises is to strengthen my lower back and abs, as well as, to help with my herniated disc.
Twice this week I rode my bike. My bike that now has a huuuuuge wide load seat on it. A seat that does not hurt my sit bones for weeks after a ride. Really weeks, I'm not kidding. It's like someone decided to see how deep of a bruise they could cause and called it a bike seat. Does the seat look all sleek and cool like the torture seat, no, but with the unsleek and uncool seat maybe I can look sleek and cool, and I think that is a fair trade off.
The bike riding and the back exercises did have some painful repercussions, but nothing I couldn't handle. The worst was the leg and hip pain at night when I was trying to sleep. I felt like there was a distinct horizontal line right at my hips. Above the line was fine, below the line could have fallen off of my body and I would have appreciated the reprieve.
To sum it up:
3 days 3 sets of 5 back exercises* resulting in sharp back pain, but not so intense that I could not function. 4 of 10.
2 days moderate pace 1/2 mile bike ride. No immediate pain, but 6 of 10 later that night that caused inability to sleep.
3 pounds lost.
*Found in "Ishmael's Care of the Back", 4th edition by Brian Krabak, MD, MBA and Brandee Waite, MD.
This week is working on starting a routine, and starting it slowly. Very slowly. I don't want to be beat before I start which is often the case.
So here is how it went for my first partial week(next week will be a full week, but since I started on Sunday...:
3 times this week I did 3 sets of 5 different back exercises given to me by my spine specialist. The purpose of these exercises is to strengthen my lower back and abs, as well as, to help with my herniated disc.
Twice this week I rode my bike. My bike that now has a huuuuuge wide load seat on it. A seat that does not hurt my sit bones for weeks after a ride. Really weeks, I'm not kidding. It's like someone decided to see how deep of a bruise they could cause and called it a bike seat. Does the seat look all sleek and cool like the torture seat, no, but with the unsleek and uncool seat maybe I can look sleek and cool, and I think that is a fair trade off.
The bike riding and the back exercises did have some painful repercussions, but nothing I couldn't handle. The worst was the leg and hip pain at night when I was trying to sleep. I felt like there was a distinct horizontal line right at my hips. Above the line was fine, below the line could have fallen off of my body and I would have appreciated the reprieve.
To sum it up:
3 days 3 sets of 5 back exercises* resulting in sharp back pain, but not so intense that I could not function. 4 of 10.
2 days moderate pace 1/2 mile bike ride. No immediate pain, but 6 of 10 later that night that caused inability to sleep.
3 pounds lost.
*Found in "Ishmael's Care of the Back", 4th edition by Brian Krabak, MD, MBA and Brandee Waite, MD.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Fibromyalgia: The Bane of My Existence
About 2 years ago I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia. Also, about 2 years ago I began to perfect my practice of denial.
Even though I suspected I had it for a long time before my diagnosis, seeing as how I have almost every symptom known to man; even though my doctor diagnosed me without me ever bringing it up; even though I have not known a pain free day since sometime in 2003; even though I have shared with my friends and family that I have Fibro; In the back of my head I'm not convinced. I can still function-kinda. My brain still works like it did-or maybe not. I can recover from a day that is slightly physically challenging-in 2 to 3 weeks. I use my denial to beat myself up and convince myself I am lazy. That does wonders for another of my symptoms: depression.
So, I am going to stop beating myself up! I am going to conquer this--somehow. I know my best best is diet and exercise; however, if you try to find a plan online for an exercise program to combat Fibro all you really find are sites that say it depends on the person, depends on your good days, your bad days; your good time of days, your bad time of days; the type and severity of your symptoms. This is all true, but not very concrete, and while I'm sure it's out there somewhere, I haven't found so much as a sample workout schedule. What I have read is to start slow and with low weights and to include stretching exercises. All good advice, and I have certainly found it to be true in the past.
My goal now is to take this advice and expand on it. I am going to come up with a plan to get fit and feel better. I may not be able to cure this, but I can help myself.
I am officially introducing Fibro Friday. Some time on Friday I will sum up my week to include my actual workouts and what works and doesn't work for me. What works for me may not work for others, and vice versa, but maybe it will help someone make their own plan.
For now, all I know is that I probably won't include pilates. Although I really enjoy it I always end up with throwing my back out after a bit. I believe this has to do with my scoliosis, not my fibro, so pilates would probably be great for someone else. Then again, I may include pilates, one move at a time for a while, and see if I can isolate what exactly is my problem area--cuz like I said I love how it makes me feel, and like I didn't say, but you may have figured out--I'm just stubborn like that!
Even though I suspected I had it for a long time before my diagnosis, seeing as how I have almost every symptom known to man; even though my doctor diagnosed me without me ever bringing it up; even though I have not known a pain free day since sometime in 2003; even though I have shared with my friends and family that I have Fibro; In the back of my head I'm not convinced. I can still function-kinda. My brain still works like it did-or maybe not. I can recover from a day that is slightly physically challenging-in 2 to 3 weeks. I use my denial to beat myself up and convince myself I am lazy. That does wonders for another of my symptoms: depression.
So, I am going to stop beating myself up! I am going to conquer this--somehow. I know my best best is diet and exercise; however, if you try to find a plan online for an exercise program to combat Fibro all you really find are sites that say it depends on the person, depends on your good days, your bad days; your good time of days, your bad time of days; the type and severity of your symptoms. This is all true, but not very concrete, and while I'm sure it's out there somewhere, I haven't found so much as a sample workout schedule. What I have read is to start slow and with low weights and to include stretching exercises. All good advice, and I have certainly found it to be true in the past.
My goal now is to take this advice and expand on it. I am going to come up with a plan to get fit and feel better. I may not be able to cure this, but I can help myself.
I am officially introducing Fibro Friday. Some time on Friday I will sum up my week to include my actual workouts and what works and doesn't work for me. What works for me may not work for others, and vice versa, but maybe it will help someone make their own plan.
For now, all I know is that I probably won't include pilates. Although I really enjoy it I always end up with throwing my back out after a bit. I believe this has to do with my scoliosis, not my fibro, so pilates would probably be great for someone else. Then again, I may include pilates, one move at a time for a while, and see if I can isolate what exactly is my problem area--cuz like I said I love how it makes me feel, and like I didn't say, but you may have figured out--I'm just stubborn like that!
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Little Things Can Make Me So Happy
Tonight I came home from Wal*Mart very excited to call my mother and tell her what I'd found! So excited that I called and *then* realized she would be in bed. Oops! Sorry mom!
But, guess what I found!!! COUNTRY HAM AND RED EYE GRAVY GRITS from Quaker!! My favorite!!! You just have to understand! These are apparently regional, and I have not been able to buy them in a store near home in my entire adult life! I have had to take them home in a suitcase after visiting my mom, my mom's mailed them to me, but not anymore! Now I can take my happy little self to Wal*Mart and buy them all.by.myself.
I feel so grown up. All able to buy my own breakfast food and all. :)
But, guess what I found!!! COUNTRY HAM AND RED EYE GRAVY GRITS from Quaker!! My favorite!!! You just have to understand! These are apparently regional, and I have not been able to buy them in a store near home in my entire adult life! I have had to take them home in a suitcase after visiting my mom, my mom's mailed them to me, but not anymore! Now I can take my happy little self to Wal*Mart and buy them all.by.myself.
I feel so grown up. All able to buy my own breakfast food and all. :)
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
First day of His Last Year of School = Nightmare
DS is a senior this year, and we just moved to Louisiana, so he is in a brand new school.
He has to wear uniforms for the first time ever, and he is not happy about that He is truly and independent spirit, but he seems ok with it now that he's been in school a day.
This morning he gets up, and he is in a panic. Full blown anxiety attack. He doesn't know exactly where the bus stop is - just that it is on the corner. He doesn't know where exactly to get his schedule. He doesn't know where the bus to the technical school will be. Nothing too major, but all together it was just too much.
After getting him calmed down I took him to school. He was ok by the time we got there. Not great, but not panicked.
I go home, and eat breakfast. I'm about to head out to the doctor when I get a call. First, there is more than one "wall" where the schedules are. He finds his, and then goes to ask a teacher where the bus is for the tech school for his Sports Medicine class. She shows him. He gets on the bus and verifies that it is the bus for "Name of City" Technical School. "Yes, this is it."
Yeah, not so much! He said he knew he was in the wrong place when on the ride there the students start talking about how many Yeagerbombs (sp?) they had last night, and how Scotch is good to drink. It doesn't burn your throat after the first few sips. Then the kids are telling him backpacks are not allowed...HUH? We asked about that, and they are... so???? Then someone tells him he is wearing the wrong color shirt, but "we will let you live for one day." (jokingly, I hope)
Then he arrives at the school and the bus driver starts telling all of the students to not hang around and talk after school at 2:00 because they will miss their ride home. 2:00?? He supposed to be back at his home school at lunch time. He doesn't even try to go to class, and heads straight to the office. They sent him to the alternative school. For troublemakers. My child who has never even so much as had detention or a phone call home for that matter.
He calls me, and the counselor gives me directions on how to get there. (We're totally new here, remember). I get there after spending half of the ride going "This can't possibly be right. This is a rough looking neighborhood. I must be in the wrong place". Nope right place.
I get there, find him and call his counselor at his school to let her know what is going on. She felt soooo bad, and she gave me directions to where he is supposed to be, and called the other school to let them know what is going on. He's supposed to be testing this morning since we weren't here last year. We get there. They are expecting him. All's good...for now.
I now go to the doctor. Got lost...twice. Gas light comes on while lost. Get stuck at a train crossing. I make it there and home. Whew.
DS goes back to his school at lunch time. Misses lunch and half of his first class because you only get your first class at "the wall". He is pinged back and forth between the counselors office, the library and the vice principals office.
One of the classes he has to take is all Freshman because it is a class they do in their Senior year in Virginia. One of the kids starts picking on him...He stands up to get his book, another kid tells the first kid to shut up before he (DS) beats the C*** out of him. DS is very broad shouldered and built more like full grown man than a high school student. First kid shuts up, and doesn't pick on him anymore.
The good news is he likes all of his teachers, his counselor is wonderful, and things have to go UP from here...right?
This was like the nightmare first day for him. I feel so bad. We went to pick up the last few school supplies, and he kept asking for things, and finally I said, "Are you taking advantage of the fact that I feel so bad for you?" "No mom, really." Riiiiiight.
He has to wear uniforms for the first time ever, and he is not happy about that He is truly and independent spirit, but he seems ok with it now that he's been in school a day.
This morning he gets up, and he is in a panic. Full blown anxiety attack. He doesn't know exactly where the bus stop is - just that it is on the corner. He doesn't know where exactly to get his schedule. He doesn't know where the bus to the technical school will be. Nothing too major, but all together it was just too much.
After getting him calmed down I took him to school. He was ok by the time we got there. Not great, but not panicked.
I go home, and eat breakfast. I'm about to head out to the doctor when I get a call. First, there is more than one "wall" where the schedules are. He finds his, and then goes to ask a teacher where the bus is for the tech school for his Sports Medicine class. She shows him. He gets on the bus and verifies that it is the bus for "Name of City" Technical School. "Yes, this is it."
Yeah, not so much! He said he knew he was in the wrong place when on the ride there the students start talking about how many Yeagerbombs (sp?) they had last night, and how Scotch is good to drink. It doesn't burn your throat after the first few sips. Then the kids are telling him backpacks are not allowed...HUH? We asked about that, and they are... so???? Then someone tells him he is wearing the wrong color shirt, but "we will let you live for one day." (jokingly, I hope)
Then he arrives at the school and the bus driver starts telling all of the students to not hang around and talk after school at 2:00 because they will miss their ride home. 2:00?? He supposed to be back at his home school at lunch time. He doesn't even try to go to class, and heads straight to the office. They sent him to the alternative school. For troublemakers. My child who has never even so much as had detention or a phone call home for that matter.
He calls me, and the counselor gives me directions on how to get there. (We're totally new here, remember). I get there after spending half of the ride going "This can't possibly be right. This is a rough looking neighborhood. I must be in the wrong place". Nope right place.
I get there, find him and call his counselor at his school to let her know what is going on. She felt soooo bad, and she gave me directions to where he is supposed to be, and called the other school to let them know what is going on. He's supposed to be testing this morning since we weren't here last year. We get there. They are expecting him. All's good...for now.
I now go to the doctor. Got lost...twice. Gas light comes on while lost. Get stuck at a train crossing. I make it there and home. Whew.
DS goes back to his school at lunch time. Misses lunch and half of his first class because you only get your first class at "the wall". He is pinged back and forth between the counselors office, the library and the vice principals office.
One of the classes he has to take is all Freshman because it is a class they do in their Senior year in Virginia. One of the kids starts picking on him...He stands up to get his book, another kid tells the first kid to shut up before he (DS) beats the C*** out of him. DS is very broad shouldered and built more like full grown man than a high school student. First kid shuts up, and doesn't pick on him anymore.
The good news is he likes all of his teachers, his counselor is wonderful, and things have to go UP from here...right?
This was like the nightmare first day for him. I feel so bad. We went to pick up the last few school supplies, and he kept asking for things, and finally I said, "Are you taking advantage of the fact that I feel so bad for you?" "No mom, really." Riiiiiight.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Just Call Him the Duck Whisperer
Or if you prefer: The Duck Piper. It doesn't matter. What does matter is those ducks loved Michael. It all started when the momma duck started bringing her 24, yes 24!, ducklings to our house every afternoon to feed on the bird seed the birds had knocked out of the feeders through out the day.
She would come and let the babies eat and then they would play and sit in the water from the sprinkler for a while, and Momma would sit along the periphery with her keen eyes watching everything that was going on. After we set up the trampoline she would sit in the shade with the water dripping down from the canvas above.
It didn't take long for Michael to decide that if the ducks were going to come they were not just going to be eating leftovers. It took even less time for him to discover their favorite was the dried corn. So, he would buy large bags of corn and fill a coffee cup and distribute it to the ducklings. Always making sure that everyone was able to eat their fill. Michael was always careful to be sure that the dominate ducklings were not able to keep the others from eating.
Soon, the ducks were coming twice a day. At the same times. EVERY day. Funny thing is, I never knew ducks could tell time. But let me tell you... they can. We know this because before much time had passed the ducks decided they were not content to wait in the back yard, and they would actually swarm him when he came home. They would meet him at his truck each afternoon and talk to him as he stepped down from the seat. I don't even know where they come from, but Michael's truck would pull up...and there they were--like magic.
They say animals can detect a kind person, a person with a heart for animals. If I didn't believe before, I do now. The momma duck trusted Michael. How do we know? She showed it. After a few days of them coming, before Michael started feeding them, she would allow us to sit outside and watch her babies just feet away from where they were feeding. If one of us stood up, though, she would always place herself between us and the babies, quietly, calmly, as if to say "I don't want to startle them, but don't get too close." A few days after that, Michael was aloud to be smack dab in the middle of them all, and Momma would watch from her comfortable perch in the cool, damp grass, but if Brendan or I stood up, she was would be between us and her little ones. She did trust us, but not like she trusted Michael. Now, if Brendan and I were at our house, and other people were coming to close from the park that was across from our yard, Brendan and I were apparently the least threatening because she would put her focus on them. She had a trust heirarchy, and it went like this: Michael, me and Brendan, and waaaay down the list, everyone else.
Smart duck.
Friday, June 4, 2010
A Belated Memorial Day Tribute: Through the Eyes of a Child
Waaay back in 1998 when Brendan was in preschool he had his first official lesson on Memorial Day. He came home that day very excited telling me how his daddy is a hero. Curious, and wanting to know his thoughts, I asked him, "Oh yeah, how come?"
His answer? "'Cuz my daddy was in the 'golf war', and he whacked that ball right out of there!"
Oh to be a child where the only struggle you know of is the war of winning a ball game.
Thank you to all the veterans who gave their lives, so that my child would not even be able to comprehend the idea of war...so that my child would grow up in a safe place, and not in a war torn country with violence on the streets right outside of his home like so many other children around the world do.
His answer? "'Cuz my daddy was in the 'golf war', and he whacked that ball right out of there!"
Oh to be a child where the only struggle you know of is the war of winning a ball game.
Thank you to all the veterans who gave their lives, so that my child would not even be able to comprehend the idea of war...so that my child would grow up in a safe place, and not in a war torn country with violence on the streets right outside of his home like so many other children around the world do.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Sometimes We Just Have to Wait
My husband and are coming up on a new season in life: retirement from the military. Being a life-long dependant, to say that I am afraid of the future would be an understatement. Logically I know we will be fine. We will have his retirement income, once I get to the last duty station next month I can get a job, we have great, loving families, and most importantly, though sometimes it feels abstract, we have a loving God. A God whose "eye is on the sparrow".
Even with all this, I find myself not only praying, but begging God to please show me everything will be fine. And he has. He has spoken to me through his word, through radio programs with timely messages, and through songs that speak directly to my heart. Still, I crave more. I have come to the realization that not only do I want things to be fine, but I want them to fit in my vision for our lives. Frankly, my vision may not be God's truth for our lives, and I need to accept that. I don't want to, but I need to.
I guess I am afraid of living in poverty. I want our own home. After 20+ years of military housing I want a place to call our own, and I want a place that is nice and I can be proud of. Not extravagant, but nice. Probably a bit bigger than we need, but I want a place where friends and family can visit, and they can have their own space. Their own place to go without feeling as if they have displaced us from our rooms. I want to go to bed at night without worrying about money. I want to replace bad tires without worrying about where the money is coming from. I want to support our son through college. I'm afraid God's plan for our life won't match this. I automatically assume that if our lives aren't like this we will be living a life of poverty. Why? My vision is not that we will be living like Hollywood's rich and famous. In fact, it is firmly entrenched in the middle class. God's vision could be greater than my dreams. (Even as I type that my thoughts are "but I doubt it". Will I ever learn?"
I wish God would flat out show me what is in store for our lives, but I have to wait. And trust. Trust does not come easily for me. He did flat out show me this week one thing...I have to wait.
Michael had a situation at work this week that hurt him, and broke my heart for him. Since he is not shy at all, he decided to confront the situation head on. While praying for his situation, I begged God, in tears, to please speak to me through His word, comfort me, and show me that in this situation everything would be fine. I read the intended scripture for that night desperately searching for anything that could apply to this situation, but God was silent. Nothing seemed to fit, so I fretted.
The next morning Michael called. Everything is fine. It was all a great misunderstanding...a miscommunication. He was happy. I could hear it in his voice.
Later, while thinking over this in my mind, I heard, "Sometimes you just have to wait." Sometimes the wait will be short to know the answer to your prayers. Sometimes, though, it will feel like forever. Still, we just have to wait...
Even with all this, I find myself not only praying, but begging God to please show me everything will be fine. And he has. He has spoken to me through his word, through radio programs with timely messages, and through songs that speak directly to my heart. Still, I crave more. I have come to the realization that not only do I want things to be fine, but I want them to fit in my vision for our lives. Frankly, my vision may not be God's truth for our lives, and I need to accept that. I don't want to, but I need to.
I guess I am afraid of living in poverty. I want our own home. After 20+ years of military housing I want a place to call our own, and I want a place that is nice and I can be proud of. Not extravagant, but nice. Probably a bit bigger than we need, but I want a place where friends and family can visit, and they can have their own space. Their own place to go without feeling as if they have displaced us from our rooms. I want to go to bed at night without worrying about money. I want to replace bad tires without worrying about where the money is coming from. I want to support our son through college. I'm afraid God's plan for our life won't match this. I automatically assume that if our lives aren't like this we will be living a life of poverty. Why? My vision is not that we will be living like Hollywood's rich and famous. In fact, it is firmly entrenched in the middle class. God's vision could be greater than my dreams. (Even as I type that my thoughts are "but I doubt it". Will I ever learn?"
I wish God would flat out show me what is in store for our lives, but I have to wait. And trust. Trust does not come easily for me. He did flat out show me this week one thing...I have to wait.
Michael had a situation at work this week that hurt him, and broke my heart for him. Since he is not shy at all, he decided to confront the situation head on. While praying for his situation, I begged God, in tears, to please speak to me through His word, comfort me, and show me that in this situation everything would be fine. I read the intended scripture for that night desperately searching for anything that could apply to this situation, but God was silent. Nothing seemed to fit, so I fretted.
The next morning Michael called. Everything is fine. It was all a great misunderstanding...a miscommunication. He was happy. I could hear it in his voice.
Later, while thinking over this in my mind, I heard, "Sometimes you just have to wait." Sometimes the wait will be short to know the answer to your prayers. Sometimes, though, it will feel like forever. Still, we just have to wait...
Monday, May 3, 2010
Complaining, Grumbling and Growing Faith
It is amazing how we can see, hear or read something over and over again, and all of a sudden it is like you never read it before. This is what happened last night while reading Exodus chapter 16. Specifically Exodus 16:8b.
In this chapter the Israelites are complaining to Moses and Aaron about not having enough food, and "wishing" they were back in Egypt. Then you come to verse 8b "...the Lord has heard your grumbling that you grumble against him-what are we? Your grumbling is not against us but against the Lord."
Your grumbling is against the Lord.
We, as a society, are quick to complain, and I know I am guilty. Waiting in line...complain, Don't make as much money as you would like...complain, Life not going the way you think it should...complain. The list goes on and on and on. We complain about people complaining, but is this complaining accomplishing anything? Or are we complaining to complain. Are we complaining to make change, or to gain sympathy?
When we complain to blow smoke we aren't complaining against the store, our family, our friends, the government. We are complaining against God... God who knows what is best for us, and wants the best for us. Instead of gleaning what God's purpose could be in any given situation, our first impulse is to grumble. What a perfect stumbling block to our growth in faith.
Earlier this year we learned that Michael will be retiring 2 years earlier than we had planned. My first inclination was to rail against the Air Force. Why? Because, frankly, I'm scared. I do not like the unknown, and I do not like change. The Air Force is our Egypt. It is familiar; it is comfortable, and even though there are hard times, it is home, but it is time to leave.
The last couple of months I have been trying to trust God. Trying not to complain, or focus on the negative. I am trying to trust that God has a plan for us. A plan that is better than we can imagine. Trust...that we are being shoved out of the nest that is the Air Force,...so that we can live out God's plan for our lives.
I need to trust God's plan, not complain that God's plan doesn't coincide with what my plan was.
Ella
In this chapter the Israelites are complaining to Moses and Aaron about not having enough food, and "wishing" they were back in Egypt. Then you come to verse 8b "...the Lord has heard your grumbling that you grumble against him-what are we? Your grumbling is not against us but against the Lord."
Your grumbling is against the Lord.
We, as a society, are quick to complain, and I know I am guilty. Waiting in line...complain, Don't make as much money as you would like...complain, Life not going the way you think it should...complain. The list goes on and on and on. We complain about people complaining, but is this complaining accomplishing anything? Or are we complaining to complain. Are we complaining to make change, or to gain sympathy?
When we complain to blow smoke we aren't complaining against the store, our family, our friends, the government. We are complaining against God... God who knows what is best for us, and wants the best for us. Instead of gleaning what God's purpose could be in any given situation, our first impulse is to grumble. What a perfect stumbling block to our growth in faith.
Earlier this year we learned that Michael will be retiring 2 years earlier than we had planned. My first inclination was to rail against the Air Force. Why? Because, frankly, I'm scared. I do not like the unknown, and I do not like change. The Air Force is our Egypt. It is familiar; it is comfortable, and even though there are hard times, it is home, but it is time to leave.
The last couple of months I have been trying to trust God. Trying not to complain, or focus on the negative. I am trying to trust that God has a plan for us. A plan that is better than we can imagine. Trust...that we are being shoved out of the nest that is the Air Force,...so that we can live out God's plan for our lives.
I need to trust God's plan, not complain that God's plan doesn't coincide with what my plan was.
Ella
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Spring is in the Air
Today is absolutely beautiful. It is perfect for the first day of Spring. As I was driving to Lowes to help Michael pick out some much needed things for our new home via long distance phone shopping, everywhere around me were signs of the season.
Trees overloaded with pink flowers. People walking along walking trails--alone, with a friend, with a dog. I saw a collie, 2 shelties, a golden retriever, a lhasa apso being carried by his owner, and 4 or 5 various other dogs all out enjoying the weather with their owners. I saw dads biking with their children. Long empty parks were filled with children and backyard trampolines were being stretched to their limits with bouncing children. People were driving with their convertible tops down and cruising on their motorcycles.
Lowes was filled with people buying flowers for their yard and searching for the perfect backyard grill. The carts in the grocery store were filled with hamburgers, steaks, hot dogs and charcoal. People around here have Spring Fever, and today is the treatment.
Trees overloaded with pink flowers. People walking along walking trails--alone, with a friend, with a dog. I saw a collie, 2 shelties, a golden retriever, a lhasa apso being carried by his owner, and 4 or 5 various other dogs all out enjoying the weather with their owners. I saw dads biking with their children. Long empty parks were filled with children and backyard trampolines were being stretched to their limits with bouncing children. People were driving with their convertible tops down and cruising on their motorcycles.
Lowes was filled with people buying flowers for their yard and searching for the perfect backyard grill. The carts in the grocery store were filled with hamburgers, steaks, hot dogs and charcoal. People around here have Spring Fever, and today is the treatment.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Michael's Gone Syndrome Part 3 Final Update--I HOPE
Michael is due back in the states in just 2 short days, and let me tell you it can't come soon enough. Since my last update just about everything that can go wrong-has!
1. We found out that Brendan will have to have a bone graft in his hand. We are only waiting to find out if it will come from his wrist or his hip. We are hoping for wrist since that will mean the damage isn't as bad as it could be.
1a. Because of said surgery Brendan will not be able to get his fire fighting certification. He will still get his college credits, but he will have to basically start over to get certified because the doctor has put the cabash on any and all physical activity involving his wrist, and he put a cast up to his elbow to ensure his compliance. Well, maybe it was to stablize the wrist, and to keep it from getting any further damage, but the result is he has to comply with doctor's orders.
2. Something is wrong with my van. My guess? EGR valve, so I have to get that fixed. Cost??? Don't know doesn't really matter because it has to be fixed.
3. Windshield of Michael's car was hit by a flying rock. Normally this would result in a chip that could be repaired, but following the rules of "Michael's Gone Syndrome" the rock hit, and the windshield immediately had a crack over a foot long.
4. The Exceptional Family Member office here neglected to tell us they decided I have enough health issues of the right type to warrent enrollment in the program. No big deal, right? WRONG! Along with not telling us I was enrolled they also did not tell us that meant in order for me to move to Barkdale with my family I have to be approved by the gaining hospital. This means another physical, just 2 weeks after my last physical, and a dental appointment.
Again, no big deal excecpt for the fact that they need all of this paperwork, a meeting with the medical board, and they have to send it to Barksdale who has 14 business days to respond. Ok, I couldn't even get a dentist appointment for almost a month, and that was after begging. They were going to make me wait 2 months. When I went to turn in the dental paperwork no one was even in the office early on a Thursday afternoon, and no one would be back until Monday. This was just 9 days ago. The paperwork didn't even get sent to Barksdale until Monday or Tuesday. Michael will be home in 2 days, and I still am not authorized to travel. This is the Air Force's idea of expediting the paperwork. Good thing they are trying to hurry or I might not be able to move until Christmas--of 2012.
5. Finally, the most stress inducing situation of all, the Air Force has decided to change high year tenure. Which in a nutshell means instead of retiring in 3 years, which was the plan we were following, Michael will be retiring in 1 year, unless he makes Senior. Then we will be back to the 3 year plan. I never realized how short one year was until trying to condense 3 years of finanical and student and career planning into 1 year. I just don't think it can be done. Don't they know I am an exceptional family member? I can't handle any more stress. I mean, you would think they would take that into consideration considering it was their idea and all.
Ok, that's it. Now Michael is due home in 2 days, will be home for 3 weeks, and then he is off to Barksdale. Brendan and I are to follow in June when school lets out. Can this please, please, please be it? I am going to try really, really hard to keep out of trouble for just a little while longer. I mean, it has to end somewhere, right?
Praying for peace,
Ella
1. We found out that Brendan will have to have a bone graft in his hand. We are only waiting to find out if it will come from his wrist or his hip. We are hoping for wrist since that will mean the damage isn't as bad as it could be.
1a. Because of said surgery Brendan will not be able to get his fire fighting certification. He will still get his college credits, but he will have to basically start over to get certified because the doctor has put the cabash on any and all physical activity involving his wrist, and he put a cast up to his elbow to ensure his compliance. Well, maybe it was to stablize the wrist, and to keep it from getting any further damage, but the result is he has to comply with doctor's orders.
2. Something is wrong with my van. My guess? EGR valve, so I have to get that fixed. Cost??? Don't know doesn't really matter because it has to be fixed.
3. Windshield of Michael's car was hit by a flying rock. Normally this would result in a chip that could be repaired, but following the rules of "Michael's Gone Syndrome" the rock hit, and the windshield immediately had a crack over a foot long.
4. The Exceptional Family Member office here neglected to tell us they decided I have enough health issues of the right type to warrent enrollment in the program. No big deal, right? WRONG! Along with not telling us I was enrolled they also did not tell us that meant in order for me to move to Barkdale with my family I have to be approved by the gaining hospital. This means another physical, just 2 weeks after my last physical, and a dental appointment.
Again, no big deal excecpt for the fact that they need all of this paperwork, a meeting with the medical board, and they have to send it to Barksdale who has 14 business days to respond. Ok, I couldn't even get a dentist appointment for almost a month, and that was after begging. They were going to make me wait 2 months. When I went to turn in the dental paperwork no one was even in the office early on a Thursday afternoon, and no one would be back until Monday. This was just 9 days ago. The paperwork didn't even get sent to Barksdale until Monday or Tuesday. Michael will be home in 2 days, and I still am not authorized to travel. This is the Air Force's idea of expediting the paperwork. Good thing they are trying to hurry or I might not be able to move until Christmas--of 2012.
5. Finally, the most stress inducing situation of all, the Air Force has decided to change high year tenure. Which in a nutshell means instead of retiring in 3 years, which was the plan we were following, Michael will be retiring in 1 year, unless he makes Senior. Then we will be back to the 3 year plan. I never realized how short one year was until trying to condense 3 years of finanical and student and career planning into 1 year. I just don't think it can be done. Don't they know I am an exceptional family member? I can't handle any more stress. I mean, you would think they would take that into consideration considering it was their idea and all.
Ok, that's it. Now Michael is due home in 2 days, will be home for 3 weeks, and then he is off to Barksdale. Brendan and I are to follow in June when school lets out. Can this please, please, please be it? I am going to try really, really hard to keep out of trouble for just a little while longer. I mean, it has to end somewhere, right?
Praying for peace,
Ella
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Trying to be...
Everything.
Employee:
Sometimes it feels as if I have so many hats I can never wear them all, and not just at work. I do my best to jump in and do whatever needs to be done at work. This can lead to an exhausting day, to say the least.
Home Maker:
Today, is my day off. I have so much to do and next to no ambition. I managed to get all of the housework done that I planned on, but I still need to plan dinner for tonight and tomorrow night, make said dinners, and get lunch together for tomorrow.
Student:
I also need to get to work on my next college class. I received my book a couple of days ago, and it is time to get started. I am a bit nervous about this one. I meant to take a class that was more of an introduction than this one, and now I am nervous. I also tend to put a lot of pressure on myself to get A's, and all that does is cause more stress.
Mom:
Last week we learned that Brendan broke his scaphoid bone waaay back in August. He had xrays on August 31st where we were first told the xray was negative, but given a referral to orthopedics and a brace. The next day we were called back in because the radiologist saw something on the xray that was questionable. We went back in, had more xrays and were again told the xrays were negative. At this time th referral was cancelled and the brace was taken away. In December we went back to the doctor because Brendan was still in pain. More xrays, another referral, negative results. This week we finally had the referral appointment and more xrays. Now we finally have answers. Answers that raise questions, but answers none the less. Brendan does, indeed, have a break. The orthopedist showed us what he called "A Tour of Brendan's Wrist."
Starting with the Aug 31st xray. There was a line right throught the center of the scaphoid bone. I don't really see how this could be a question, but the orthopedist who has seen many more xrays than I have says it could have been questionable.
2nd xrays on September 1st. Same line, maybe a bit lighter. Brendan's symptoms have changed a bit, and he is not showing classic scaphoid bone break symptoms. The result? We are basically told it must be a sprain it will hurt for a while.
3rd xrays Dec 17th. Here is where I start to really question the ability of the radiologist. I understand, to a point, why it was missed on the first two, but on this one? Not so much. On this one the line is still there, AND a halo shows around the top of the scaphoid bone. This is because the bone has started to tilt upwards, so we are starting to see the top of the bone.
4th xrays: There is now a large gap where the original line was, the bone is butted up against the radius bone, the bottom portion of the bone is white meaning inadequate blood flow to the bone, a bone spur, and he has scaphoid collapse.
Now, instead of a cast or perhaps even a simple surgery, we are looking at having a screw put in, and a bone graft because of the lack of blood flow. All this while Brendan is taking a course in firefighting and trying to get his certification.
Wife:
Right now this includes wearing a "dad" hat since Michael is deployed.
Daugher and Friend:
I feel these often get pushed to the side in an effort to fulfill my other roles.
Christian:
I know I often push my spiritual life to a back burner. The sad part is it is the most important, and everything would go so much more smoothly if I were more faithful in spending time with God everyday. Thankfully, God is always there even when I am not.
Employee:
Sometimes it feels as if I have so many hats I can never wear them all, and not just at work. I do my best to jump in and do whatever needs to be done at work. This can lead to an exhausting day, to say the least.
Home Maker:
Today, is my day off. I have so much to do and next to no ambition. I managed to get all of the housework done that I planned on, but I still need to plan dinner for tonight and tomorrow night, make said dinners, and get lunch together for tomorrow.
Student:
I also need to get to work on my next college class. I received my book a couple of days ago, and it is time to get started. I am a bit nervous about this one. I meant to take a class that was more of an introduction than this one, and now I am nervous. I also tend to put a lot of pressure on myself to get A's, and all that does is cause more stress.
Mom:
Last week we learned that Brendan broke his scaphoid bone waaay back in August. He had xrays on August 31st where we were first told the xray was negative, but given a referral to orthopedics and a brace. The next day we were called back in because the radiologist saw something on the xray that was questionable. We went back in, had more xrays and were again told the xrays were negative. At this time th referral was cancelled and the brace was taken away. In December we went back to the doctor because Brendan was still in pain. More xrays, another referral, negative results. This week we finally had the referral appointment and more xrays. Now we finally have answers. Answers that raise questions, but answers none the less. Brendan does, indeed, have a break. The orthopedist showed us what he called "A Tour of Brendan's Wrist."
Starting with the Aug 31st xray. There was a line right throught the center of the scaphoid bone. I don't really see how this could be a question, but the orthopedist who has seen many more xrays than I have says it could have been questionable.
2nd xrays on September 1st. Same line, maybe a bit lighter. Brendan's symptoms have changed a bit, and he is not showing classic scaphoid bone break symptoms. The result? We are basically told it must be a sprain it will hurt for a while.
3rd xrays Dec 17th. Here is where I start to really question the ability of the radiologist. I understand, to a point, why it was missed on the first two, but on this one? Not so much. On this one the line is still there, AND a halo shows around the top of the scaphoid bone. This is because the bone has started to tilt upwards, so we are starting to see the top of the bone.
4th xrays: There is now a large gap where the original line was, the bone is butted up against the radius bone, the bottom portion of the bone is white meaning inadequate blood flow to the bone, a bone spur, and he has scaphoid collapse.
Now, instead of a cast or perhaps even a simple surgery, we are looking at having a screw put in, and a bone graft because of the lack of blood flow. All this while Brendan is taking a course in firefighting and trying to get his certification.
Wife:
Right now this includes wearing a "dad" hat since Michael is deployed.
Daugher and Friend:
I feel these often get pushed to the side in an effort to fulfill my other roles.
Christian:
I know I often push my spiritual life to a back burner. The sad part is it is the most important, and everything would go so much more smoothly if I were more faithful in spending time with God everyday. Thankfully, God is always there even when I am not.
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