Sharing Old Photos

Yesterday at my mom's house, I commandeered  a photo of my older brother and me when we were about nine and six years old.  I was holding my favourite teddy with the crocheted yellow shirt and looking up at him like most little sisters do.  I thought of all the events that have transpired since we had to say good-bye to him at the early age of nineteen; my wedding I wished he could have been at, having and raising my children, the big move back home.  There are all sorts of memories that old family photos can conjure up for us and it's special to be able to share those moments with others.  A part of my heart left the earth the day we said good-bye to him but I know without a shadow of doubt that I will see him again.  It is my strong beliefs that carry me through the hills and valleys, not my own strength.

I've been looking through other's photographs as they share online and think of the time they took to post them on facebook or any number of sites.  I wonder what moments those photos encapsulate and the joy that comes from sharing these memories.  I feel a sense of family and connection due to the common recollection of similar moments shared by families the world over.  A new baby sitting on a proud mother's lap followed by the antics of the toddlers as they grow.  Vacations shared, special holiday events and graduations.  There is always a feeling of pride and happiness as we share our fondest treasures with others and it's a wonderful way to keep in mind our heritage and all the milestones that have led to our present.

It also reminds us of the foundation that has been built under us through the teachings of our parents, elders and teachers.  Words echo through my mind as I look at photos of some of them and I am filled with gratefulness that I was able to share these times of learning.  They somehow bring me to the present by asking me if I am living what I have been taught and respecting the rules I was introduced to much earlier in life.  They say a picture is worth a thousand words and it is those words of encouragement, correction and truth that urge me on to tomorrow. 

I'll try to scan a better copy and post later.

Empty Nest

 Any way you look at it, it was just an empty nest.  I was visiting my mom today and we went for a walk in the beautiful sunshine.  We turned the corner to walk alongside our fields and there I saw it.  Some poet would  likely wax eloquent about it and what it symbolized and stuff like that.  I just thought I would take the pics and see what came to me.  Well, here's what it is.  Present tense.  I jumped a very deep ditch, twice, got my newly washed coat and boots muddy and scraped my knee to discover this awesome truth.  It was just an empty nest that belonged to last season.  I could see the feathers in the bottom of it so I know it had once been used.  This was spring time.  A time to look forward and not back.  It's taken me six months to come to this conclusion, not without a little help from my friends.  Those birds learned how to fly, mine are too.  And they are all safely in the hands of the Creator who made them all.  My job is to get myself out of the way so I can see my present and realize how very good it is.
  When I was a waitress in our small town diner back home (a huge step down for me), some of the retired men came there to drink coffee and they would always ask how I was doing.  I'd answer sarcastically," Well, I'm above ground and sucking air so that's pretty good, I think."  Then I'd smile hugely, pour them a refill on their strong black coffee whether they wanted it right then or not and saunter away.
Now that I'm 39 and starting my life over again, I don't have time to be sucked into my past.  I'm too busy trying to do what it takes to get stronger so I can fly again.  I want to have my own home with a garden and somehow a field with a stream and a horse.  That's all I need.  A nest of my own, I guess.  My children see that I am strong and fighting my way back up again.  In fact, one of them told me that they were so proud of me for that.  They've seen me get knocked down a few times in life, that is true.  But they have always seen me, by the grace of God, get back up again and fight.  I have realized this as well; that my heart and my love is their sanctuary even when I cannot be where they are.  They know that I love them because I remind them daily.  When they want someone to talk to, I am there.  We share a bond of closeness that I know I am blessed to have and I enjoy the time I spend with them.  My physical home may not contain them but they are always with me.  So really, my nest is not empty after all.  I have the love of my children and my immediate family.  Add to that the support of my friends and I am very fortunate lady.  I'm dusting that mud off from my time in the ditch and I'm going to see what this new season will bring.

Two Empty Nesters Out For a Walk

Pull Over Before Reading

Hands up all of us honest enough to admit we've gotten lost on the road.  Okay now how about at a friend's house, looking for the bathroom?  The cereal aisle at the local grocery store?  I was born with the "getting lost" gene and I think I have several people's share of it as well.  Please write and I'll see how we can arrange a swap for a math gene or something left brained that I'm sure I don't have.  I keep telling the kids, usually right before we're about to get lost, while we're getting lost and after we're pretty sure we're not lost anymore, that I'm going to get a G.P.S.  One handicap is that I'm still a little too independant to admit I need help in that department.  Even though I pay more at the pump than the rest of the population due to unplanned detours, daydreams of what's-his-name and Highway 401 whoopsie-daisies, I'm reluctant to just give it all up.  The amazing power of being able to flip open my laptop and Google the address, only to be taken to within a stone's throw of where I really want to be is such a thrill.  Or the joy of buying a map at the local gas station while befriending the cashier to see if she might be of some assistance.  I can now speak a smattering of no less than 15 foreign languages including hand signals and I've never set foot off the continent.   Adding to all of that fun, I'm not sure I can handle one more voice in my car.  Maybe they have an "are we there yet?" feature programmed in just to annoy.  How do I know?  Besides, I've already named my car Betsy, what do I call the gp?  What if I yell at the wrong piece of technology on the accelerator lane and will they know?It's almost as if machines have a personality of their own.  Will my suspension suddenly drop huffily onto the highway while the navigator snidely directs me to the nearest anger management clinic?Maybe I can hack the system and subsitute the local dairy bar.   Add to all that my lack of consumer savvy and I'll probably end up buying some amazingly low-priced model built by one of our non-friendly competitor countries.  They'll have grown bored of attacking from the air and upload alternate directions, just for fun.  "Just keep going over the bridge and hey...that might just be your exit.  Nope, just kidding.  Now take a quick u-turn and try not to hit anyone...else.  For further directions, please insert 2300 dinar in exact change."  So, for now, I'm content to take life as it comes with all its quirks, foibles and near misses.  I'll keep leaving riduculously early to watch other non-gp's come straggling into the dentist's office looking like the first day of kindergarten and clutching their own scoop of mocha madness.

Musical Therapy

A Happy Feet Family at the Beach

In doing some research regarding depression and anxiety and the related health effects, I've found a few nice additions to my repertoire of tools in the fight against depression.*  Soothing music helps calm jangled nerves, but then we all knew that.  Further, it helps promote a healthier digestive tract by reducing the flow of acid brought on by anxiety.  It helps elevate mood and also provides a lovely distraction for the mind.  Here are a few to try, or you may like to look for your own favorites on youtube.  Relaxation and de-stressing our minds and our bodies is necessary for our total health and healing. Enjoy!

Musical Therapy to Relax or Motivate  A place to begin and see what you might like.  Just click on the link.

Classical     Relax after a hard day's work with a book or some tea.

Relax by the Beach     I can't wait for Flip Flop Inauguration Day at the beach...wahooo!

Sweet Love Song   Naturally, this is dedicated to my sweethearts, of whom there are many..at least three ;)


http://www.natural-health-remedies.net/cures-for-IBS.html  Here is where I have found alot of useful information and I hope it helps!  I thought that there was nothing I could to to treat my symptoms but this article gave me hope and some new treatments to try out.
* My thanks to Bob Morris, D.O.M. for posting this information online.

Words of Wisdom as Requested by ...

This is absolutely brilliant.  I'm pretty sure world peace and harmony among nations is mentioned in there somewhere.  If you recognize yourself anywhere in these rules, be ashamed. Be very ashamed.  

It's truly amazing how adults can behave like children and I can say that from experience because I have been a child and someday I firmly and resolutely propose that I take steps of immediate and considerable action, after much serious consultation with the appropriate groups to poll the public's reaction and then hire a team of attorneys to explain it all away....where was I?  O yes.  I will cough cough...one day...If I have to...grow up.  [Uncross my fingers and take them from behind my back.]

A youngster (names withheld to protect the innocent) and I had a very enlightening conversation today about the peculiarities of the adult world and how children can survive the many pitfalls that await them.  I think the rules go something like this:

1.  If I tell you that you broke it, you did.

2.  If I thought I was going to catch you stealing, but I didn't, you did it.  Cuz that is something I would have done when I was your age.

3.  If I didn't catch you at it but I'm in a really bad mood, you're in trouble anyway so start running.

4.  If a sibling tells on you and they're lying but they are always believable, refer them to a career in journalism.

5.  If you didn't do it but feel the need to rat on someone who might have, you will get found out. 

6.  If you are honest with me and I just don't want to admit it because I'm a grown up and I don't like to apologize, don't hold your breath.  Then again, miracles do happen.  Sometimes.

7.  Plot your own evil, nasty, hateful things to say to your children so when they come along, they can keep the family tradition alive and well.

8.  Completely ignore any pearls of wisdom that might come from the mouth of babes cuz you forgot them.

9.  Always, always, hold a grudge and keep a calendar to be sure you're up on your daily reminders.

10.  Ignore all of the above and play nice.

Feel free to share this with children of any age. 

Another Oldie But Goodie

Madame President

It's that time of the year again.  Time to sharpen our pencils and our wits, and head back to the pathway of learning and enlightenment.  Actually it's less of a pathway and more like the yellow brick road.  The scarecrows will walk a little further, exploring their passions and talent.  The lions will bravely find their way home by heart and the tin woman at our house will begin each day by saying "Class is now in session."   For many homeschooling moms, it's a time of year where we wonder if we are quite up to the challenges of the coming year and how we'll cope with each of them.  Flashbacks of chickenpox outbreaks, jello food fights and rainy day field trips keep us up long after our bedtimes staring at the ceiling and wondering what tales of bravery we'll have to flaunt after the school year is over.  Whether it's public school or homeschool, there are always new and exciting lessons to learn for mom and child alike.  My oldest will be learning to drive this year.  I will be learning how not to over react this year..a mild prediction.
 I think that one of the biggest challenges is finding time to become the person that we are while balancing the needs of the rest of the family.  This starts with the basics like time to dress and perform our morning rituals without having to play diplomat to the feuding cereal factions in the hallway.  Apple Jacks versus the Fruit Loops, literally.  For instance, what to do when a piece of paper slyly crept under the door followed, believe it or not, by a pencil and a rather bold request for a signature from some small person suffering from temporary insanity.  I was incredulous!  I said the only thing that I could without bursting a blood vessel.  "Even the president of the United States gets to visit the john without having the FBI slip documents under the door for his immediate inspection.  Just how big a hurry are you in and do you really want to make this field trip?"  I wonder later if I've been too harsh but not for long.  In contrast, I also have warm, fuzzy memories of our drives to school in the winter when the sky was an inky black slate  and the day's mistakes yet unwritten.  My favorite feature of our little house was the attached garage so that I could bundle up in my favorite lap blanket and slippers, tuck my coffee cup safely next to me with the neighbors none the wiser.  We'd drive to school in a drowsy, warm cocoon of music with the aroma of coffee swirling through air.  Sometimes they'd even have their own little travel mugs of chicory roast and I could see them in my mirror as they appeared deep in thought, sipping and planning their day.  The memory of lighting scented candles after work and baking cookies to the endless parade of carols on the radio makes me look forward each year to the chill that autumn brings.  I guess it's those little memories that ground us and remind us of all the blessings we have while offering courage for the journey ahead.  So while we wait for our books to arrive in the mail with anticipation, I am fortified by the gentle reminder that I have a Father that is faithful in all things and will not leave me without His help and guidance.  As I slip a prayer heavenward, I don't have to wonder if He's too busy or if I'm on the schedule for the day.

Breathing New Life into Old Words

Plagiarism is only O.K. if you're "copy and pasting" from your own material.  Had a super busy day today and just plain forgot to write so here's an article from an old blog of mine...one of my favorites.  I hope you enjoy it as well.

Fall is in the Air

The same beach that was crowded with noisy picnic crowds and laughing children only a week earlier was looking a little forlorn today as I descended the shade covered path.  The sand was cool and soft beneath my flip flops and I shivered slightly from the fairy breeze that ruffled the leaves overhead.  The sun was high in the sky and the water beckoned with its usual carefree dance of windswept waves and foam.  It was such a short summer with so much rain and so much to do that I'd only been out a couple of times this year.  I dipped a foot experimentally in the water and was bitterly reminded of the shortness of the season.  What was I doing that was so important all summer long that I'd neglected this beautiful treasure of balmy winds and diamond waters?  True, it was only Lake Erie and not some tropical paradise but the basic elements all combined to the same effect...the constant wooing of water on the shoreline while gulls chorused overhead and the wind that conspired to make nonsense of any well thought-out hairdo.  With a sigh, I headed further up the beach away from the tumbled seaweed that scattered the shoreline and laid out my quilt.  Suddenly the well organized life that had seemed so important to me was utterly ridiculous in contrast to the bounty of God's beauty that lay unappreciated and silent.  As if waiting patiently for acknowledgement and the inevitable smile of bliss that followed any of His elaborate handiwork.  I stretched out and felt the tension of the morning melt out of my shoulders as the sunshine kneaded the knots out of my tired body.  I opened my library book and fell to reading like a word starved librarian, allowing myself to be transported in to the world of Grisham where football players roamed the streets of Italy and ingested ungodly amounts of carbs and espresso.  I was on the Ligurian seaside pleasantly idling the day away until a deep voice shattered my solitary reverie.  Yes...what was a pretty girl like me doing reading on the beach, of all things.  As though I should have been better occupied cleaning a cottage for darling little diamond miners and supervising the rabbits as they licked the dishes clean.  Indeed!  With a straight face I informed him I was waiting for my fiancee to roll around.  Not that I had one yet but then...he didn't need to know that and one never knew what was waiting around a bend in the road.  He ambled off less enthusiastically than he ambled on and I snickered into my book with self satisfied delight.  Maybe I should have been less acerbic and found a more polite way to answer.  Maybe they would invent chocolate with all the nutrition of an 8 quart basket of mixed vegetables and none of the calories.  Maybe I should have had a V-8.

Life in the Hands of the One and Only Creator

Monday's post left my mind in a whirl as I felt so helpless, so inconsequential to make any difference in Pastor Nadarkhani's case.  "Come on, Ghandi," I chided myself for keeping a news vigil and I finally went to bed after midnight, fell asleep praying.  I don't know why my brother in Christ is having to face this trial .  There are moments in life that change you forever, when you make decisions you didn't think you could and a different inner strength comes out of you that you didn't know you had.  Right now, it is that strength and courage that only God can give that is the ever present comfort to our brother as he awaits deliverance.  Nations are brought together in prayer for one cause, asking God to spare his life and comfort him while he endures this trial alone but for the presence of God in his daily life.

I remember the 9/11 tragedies and watching the footage in shock and horror, thinking of the people in the towers and how they must be feeling.The shock of seeing the buildings fall, knowing that there were mothers, father, sons, daughters falling to their deaths was sickening and just incomprehensible to my human mind.  I remember my mother calling me that day.  She was worried as all good mothers are and pleaded with me to keep her grandchildren home from school.  The whole nation was in a state of alarm and we didn't know when to expect another attack or if that was it.  I normally share her protective nature and watch my three children like a hawk, especially when they were toddlers.  That day, I surprised myself by answering her differently.  I said, "Mom, I refuse to live in fear.  We all have an appointed time to leave this earth and nobody can change that.  If anyone has a problem with that, they'll have to take it up with the complaint department which is, God."  I tried to end my harsh statement with a little humor to soften the edges but that was exactly how I felt.  I shopped for groceries that week, took the kids to the park and made dinner for us.  We did homework reading on the front porch as usual and I strove to keep a calm, peaceful atmosphere in my home.  Their young minds were not ready to fully digest what had just happened and while I didn't shelter them completely, I put it on a level that they could understand and we certainly didn't have CNN running 24/7 in the house.  I made it a priority to keep going about the business of living.  A bigger part of our "living" became more serious and somber during family devotions as we remembered the fallen heroes of our country.  Sometimes it takes a calamity to bring a people together.  Americans prayed together.  You could feel the bond of brotherhood grow stronger that day because we were all reminded that our lives are in God's hands.

In my personal life, I have dealt with loss.  I had a brother that drowned accidentally when I was just shy of my sixteenth birthday.  That left our household in disarray for quite some time and I still cannot visit his grave without the memories of that fateful day flooding back and I have to choke back tears.  Later, when my oldest daughter was eight years old, she came home from school one day with arthritis in her body.  We took her to the hospital, not knowing what was wrong with her at the time.  They had to send her to a children's hospital because they didn't even know how to treat what she had.  I spent the next several months by her side until it came to a point where her kidneys were failing, the virus that had attacked her colon was now attacking her immune system and kidneys.  The doctors were on their last treatment and she was not responding.  She had been waking up cold and blue and I even let the kids open one or two Christmas gifts early that year, thinking to myself that she might not make it until then.  I remember making chocolate chip cookies and holding her scrawny form in my arms as we danced in the kitchen.  I fought hard to keep the tears from coming but she noticed with the intuition of a first born and began to tear up as well.  I turned the oven off and carried her upstairs to my room.  I cradled her little body and just let her cry. .  When her crying subsided a little, I asked her what she was most afraid of.  She said that she was afraid the medicine couldn't help her and she was going to die.  I held her while she cried some more and I was glad my brave, tough daughter had confided her fears to me and I was proud of the strength she found to talk about it.  I asked her what else she was afraid of because I knew there was more.  She didn't want to answer.  Finally, she said that she didn't want to leave me here alone.  I told her that it was different because I was an adult and I could take care of myself.  I knew she was in severe pain from time to time and she was just so tired of being ill, tired of fighting.  I looked into her gray/blue eyes, lashes wet with tears and brimming with more.  My heart broke as I told her, "It's ok if you're too tired to fight anymore.  You don't have to suffer and keep yourself here because you think I need you to be here.  You have my permission to go and be at peace and rest, not feel any more pain.  On the other hand, we are not done fighting and we still have one option we haven't tried. That was not an easy moment for a young mother or her daughter.  Since then, God has used that last option,a herbalist with a new remedy he had just discovered and we became best friends, totally inseparable.  After several drawn out custody battles over a period of about eight years, my body and mind weakened and I had a complete breakdown.  I knew I was going to lose this last battle so I unhired my attorney and just sat back wondering what God was going to do. After I lost the children, I lost my job and the apartment I was going to rent.  It seemed there was no other alternative but for me to return home to my parents.  I always promised my children I wouldn't abandon them but it seemed I was being given no choice.   So I find myself faced with another situation that I cannot manage, control or manipulate.  God has brought me through a second nervous breakdown that I had in the fall and I am getting the care I need as well as the rest my mind and body so desperately craved.  I am trying to be strong in my faith and I work to keep up my relationship with my children.  I don't understand why or how God has allowed this all to happen.  The strong woman I used to be is no more.  On the outside, at least.  On the inside, my belief in God is stronger still while I wait patiently to see what each day will bring.
 The plight of others' suffering has always touched me and my personal experiences have made me able to empathize in a way I never could otherwise.  Today, the thought that an innocent man is in fear for his life because someone else disagrees with what Pastor Yousef is saying and believing is unreal.  He has lost so much in the time he's been illegally imprisoned and kept from his family and church.  His children have had to fall asleep wondering if their father will be alive the next day.  His wife wonders how she will support her young family and bear the tremendous burden of caring for them alone if he is wrongly executed.  There is so much heartache that is caused by fear, ignorance and hatred.  I have placed my needs before God and surrendered myself to His will in my life, come what may.  I am willing to die for my convictions and I will continue to speak out until I am heard.  The life of a Jew, Muslim or Christian was created by God and bought by His sacrifice.  It is up to individuals to believe and accept what God has done for us.  God is the only one with the ownership of His creation and He is the only One that has the right to say who gets to live and who does not.  It is my hope that we can work towards forgiveness, understanding and tolerance.  Not only in our personal lives towards each other but as the leaders of nations form policies that will either free or place their people in bondage.  My plea is for life.  Life with freedom of choice.  Life in peace.
In conclusion, at a time when nations are coming together as never before in a true brotherhood for democracy and nation building, it is my hope that the freedom of religion will not be forgotten as one of the cornerstones of a nation.  Or the sacrifices that have been made in realizing those dreams of freedom.  I read something today that I wanted to share on this post because it was published on the 18th of this month so it is very current to my topic. I found the article encouraging, particularly the paragraphs I've included below.  I'm looking forward to the results of their united efforts to free the world from terror, beginning with the immediate release of Pastor Nadarkhani, as listed in my previous post.  He is being held illegally and slated for execution because of his Christian beliefs.   

Here is the link for the complete article.


http://www.nation.com.pk/pakistan-news-newspaper-daily-english-online/national/18-Feb-2012/pakistan-won-t-help-us-attack-iran-says-zardari

Pakistan won’t help US attack Iran, says Zardari

the article, in part reads as follows:

“We cannot deny may be there are people among our population who are involved in this, but this is a world problem,” Zardari said, adding, “The three presidents you see sitting together, we shall fight this menace. Nobody is more concerned or more involved in it than me personally,” he said.

President Zardari thanked the visiting presidents for coming to Pakistan to attend the trilateral summit. He invited the Iranian president to make a bilateral visit to Pakistan at the earliest.

The Iranian president said Thursday’s summit in Islamabad and the next to be held in Kabul are going to have very positive impacts for people of the three countries. He said Iranian people greatly value their brotherly relations with Pakistan and hoped these will further augment in future.

Earlier the three presidents held wide-ranging talks on cooperation in diverse fields focusing on cooperation in counter terrorism and transnational organised crimes including drug and human trafficking, border management and trade.

In a joint statement issued at the end of the summit, the three countries pledged to develop framework of comprehensive cooperation and to take pragmatic steps for realising mutually beneficial cooperation to promote stability, peace and shared prosperity.

The joint statement, signed by President Zardari and his Iranian and Afghan counterparts at the conclusion of the summit, resolved to ensure respect for their countries sovereignty, independence, unity and territorial integrity, as enshrined in the UN Charter.

They agreed to commence a process of trilateral consultations for an agreement pledging not to allow any threat emanating from their respective territories against each other. They resolved to strengthen cooperation for eradicating extremism, terrorism and militancy and to address the root causes of these menaces, condemning the killings of civilians as well as any kind of assassinations.

Read This First

When I arrived home from my afternoon visiting family, I checked my twitter, facebook and email accounts to see the latest news.  I had joined the ACLJ's twitter campaign to free Pastor Yousef who is being held illegally in prison and is facing execution for being a Christian in Iran.  I opened my blog and felt so little, like a micro-scopic dot in the universe.  My depression seemed insignificant in the face of what Pastor Yousef endures every day; being separated for over 800 days from his family and the church he has pastored .  There are others in Iran who have been illegally imprisoned because they have professed Christianity.  This is not the stance of all Muslims so it is important to note the difference.  The founder of Pakistan, Muhammad Ali Jinnah said the following words in his address to the newly formed nation on August 11, 1947:

"You are free; you are free to go to your temples, you are free to go to your mosques or to any other place or worship in this State of Pakistan. You may belong to any religion or caste or creed that has nothing to do with the business of the State"

I am not a politician and I hesitate to speak too much on the subject lest I reveal how little I truly know.  History has always fascinated me and I have just started to study the history of the Middle East and I find myself emotionally drawn into their struggle for democracy and independence.  The leaders are very often misunderstood and they have a difficult battle to try to achieve their goals amidst the violence and impatient citizens who cannot or will not wait for the due process of law and order.  

I am a mother, a sister, a wife, and a daughter.  It is from these views that I speak and make my arguments against the illegal execution of Pastor Nadarkhani.  How can a country prosper without the trust of its citizens?  How can false allegations and quiet executions provide a solid foundation for democracy not only within the country but in relation to it's global neighbours and citizens.  A global family thrives on respect for self and the rights of others, respect for law and order, freedom of choice in religion and a desire for truth.  United by these principles, mankind can make great strides in achieving their goals of bettering the lives of their people.  It is my plea that the great leaders, men with a heavy responsibility of bearing the burden of their people, unite and find another way to truth, light and freedom.  This is not only Iran's struggle, it is that of their neighbours and citizens the world over.  Lend your voice to the cause of freedom.  Let us not go quietly into the night.  

The Eyes Have It

I've been fighting a virus (I'll spare you the intimate, disgusting details) and I'm fresh out of inspiration.  So I'm going to do what every half decent writer does and grab an old letter and restyle it to fit and voila!  The dog hasn't eaten my blogwork and I'm still in good standing with the three or four people in Russia, Germany and the Ukraine that have stumbled onto this blog.  Here goes....
In preface to these tales of "whoa", it is important to note that I have had my eyes recently examined and the doctor told me that I did not need glasses.  At all.

There was the time I was out shopping with friends and I rushed into the bathroom so I could hurry back out to the shoe aisle where I was pretty sure someone was about to buy the flats I had been lusting over.  I entered the bathroom distractedly and was pulled up short by the pungent odor swirling throughout the room.  Since I was in a hurry and I didn't think they had another ladies bathroom, I just made the best of it.  Shortly after I got settled in my stall, a MAN came into the bathroom with a small child.  I thought, "Of all the nerve!"  But I didn't care to give myself away just in case he was much bigger than me and could in fact swirly me in the adjoining stall without much effort or hesitation on his part.  I sat there getting more and more incensed.  I could feel the heat flush through my body and I knew I had reached the boiling over point where I was going to open my big mouth and say something I shouldn't.  Quickly, I exited the room, giving my hands a hurried washing.  On my way out the door, I happened to notice a little blue and white picture.  Oddly enough, it was missing the customary dress.  ""That's funny, I thought to myself.  I could have sworn the picture was supposed to have.......OOOOHHHH!  That "a-ha moment" motivational speakers blather on about as though none of us have had a light bulb blast its telltale wattage over our heads before.  Quite possibly, for the first time in my life, I had my own personal experience with Thomas Edison and we agreed that I was an idiot.  I ran off to find my proper bathroom to wash in and stood there looking myself in the mirror, expecting to see some other ghoulish head on my shoulders than my own.  I mean, what possessed me to do such a dumb thing?  How often did these sorts of mistakes happen?  And how would one track such a thing with any degree of accuracy given the willingness people in general have to lie about what goes on in the bathroom. Sigh....I determined right then and there that I needed a vacation.  A long vacation.  With sun and waves and chocolate ice cream.  Practically out of the medical handbook, that one.

Do you want to hear about another time I made a complete %^&* of myself?  Ok.  You're an easy crowd.
I was staying at a hotel and expecting a long distance call.  The trouble of it was, the only working phone was in the upstairs hallway.  One had to wait by the front desk to intercept the clerk from looking right at you and offering to leave a message for you.  Then, the heart pounding dash down the hallway, up the flight of stairs to glare at whomever was unlucky enough to be on the phone at the time.  They hang up, your call is put through and it's all very simple.  Unless something goes wrong.  It seemed everything was going wrong this evening.  Someone had a small item stolen, (a tea cup poodle I think it was) and so they thought they should call the police.  I personally didn't see how the animal in question could have made it out of the parking lot before being ran over, stepped on or drop kicked by accident into the adjoining province.  This was a very, very small animal.   Still, I kept my opinion to myself because that is the sensible thing to do and because the lady was very upset already, having lost Pookie and being completely inconsolable.
This evening, everything seemed to go wrong.  The call I was waiting for came in, so I climbed back down off of the front desk monitoring station and sprinted down the hall and up the 5700 stairs.  I pressed the button on the phone...nothing happened.  Back downstairs in full panic mode to see what has happened.  Nothing has gone wrong according to the clerk and she looks at me oddly, sending me breathlessly back up to the second floor.  I picked up the phone and...nothing.  Sighing angrily, I flew down the stairs three at a time and found myself face to face with a hall full of crying women.  Everybody get outta the way!  I hollered with my remaining oxygen and ran pell-mell through the parting crowd shouting "move" occasionally in case the first holler didn't grab their ears.  It was only in passing that I noticed the shiny Canadian police badge while sliding in my sock feet to hang breathlessly over the front desk, once again.  It's not every day I yell at law enforcement like that.  In face, I've never had, the motive, opportunity or stupidity to do such a thing.  It seems tonight, I was in full possession of all three.  Needless to say, I ran back upstairs, praying my call was still waiting while listening for the jangle of handcuffs that never came.  I guess some days, they gotta pick their battles.

Recovery Rocks

 Simple, smooth rocks from the beach.....

All have discolorations, crevices, holes.  Taken in hand and and observed, they cause us to pause and reflect.  Where have they come from?   The tide has washed them ashore so that we might question them and see our own imperfections mirrored in their swirls of colour and grit.  

Our task this week was to pick up each rock in our jar and name it.  It seemed simple until I began to think deeper about the meaning of the words I was inscribing.  


God, country, peace, strength.  Unity...united we stand, divided we fall.  It's so much easier to go from day to day feeling that we are important and loved, needed by someone.  When our Blackberry announces our mother is on the other line, do we postpone our current light chat or do we take advantage of technology and hit the "Ignore" button?  I did this once last week and I felt absolutely horrid the rest of the day.  It was a split second decision but one made carelessly, as though pressured by the speed of our current world.  Of course, I did call her back and we talked but it just wasn't the same to me because I knew I should have taken the call.  There were a few days just a couple of years ago after some serious illnesses, when I didn't know if I'd have a mother to ignore and call back later.  Such is the uncertainty of life.  We can not tell the future so we should love the ones we're with each time we get the chance to tell them how much they mean to us.  Even though the world seems to spin faster than in our childhood, it's so good to hear a voice on the other end of the phone asking us how we are doing, how our day has been.  It is so good to know that we have the love and attention of another human.  And so, like a ripple in a pond, the good feelings continue to the next person we meet or speak with.  Love and affection, caring is passed from wave to wave until it reaches its destination. Unity gives us a hope for the future and love helps pave the way.


The next few rocks seemed to almost label themselves as I remember how good it felt to be loved; peace, calm, strength, mother.  I sighed deeply, wondering if I had earned those words.  I knew I was loved by my family and God but did I maintain my own inner peace and calm so I could project strength in the ways I chose to mother my children?  It's a constant and well-known struggle for a mother or father to take the time to nourish themselves so they can lead out of confidence and kindness rather than pressure and an overbearing nature.  The days that I found myself struggling to get through the days were the days I had not prepared my heart and mind for the important work ahead of me.  The days that I forget, I have to go back to where I missed the target and try again.  


I feel that it is through the strength of our Father and our families that we can become whole and well again. First, our Father is always there as He promised.  Secondly, our parents and family are there for us if we let them in.  So much of the depression I have witnessed has been largely caused by a feeling of being disconnected in such a busy world where "being connected" is sometimes just a buzz-word to sell more technology.  Families here in North America seem to splinter off into their own independent strongholds and it's a matter of pride to survive without any help or support from anybody.  These are the faces I see alone in hospital rooms, staring listlessly at the wall or out a window and I wonder where their family is.  They have told me their stories and I feel pity, sadness and somehow, I'm ashamed. 


When I became a single mother, I became very determined to "make it on my own" and I was always, and I quote "fine" when anyone asked.  Never mind if I was exhausted and fell asleep with my clothes on most of the time.  Or that I really hadn't had a break in months and I felt completely overwhelmed by my responsibilities.  I felt strongly that a good mother is the backbone of a nation (having been taught that as I grew up).  Therefore, I felt that the backbone did not need to be connected to the shoulder bone and I bore the weight stoically on my own.  I wish that others would learn from my lesson and open their lives to the possibility of sharing.  Not just giving but allowing care and compassion into our lives on the receiving end.  So many mothers sink into a depression, feeling inadequate, overwhelmed and too tired to keep up with the increasing demands on their time.  


I've watched ethnic groups from other nations and how they loudly rally around their loved ones at any occasion, crowding a hospital room with their loud chatter and laughter.  Food always materializes and a person can't help but feeling loved and wanted in such a warm community as this.  It seems everything is done together; the day to day tasks, side by side with the heartbreaking moments as well.  We are like so many rocks in a jar, gathered together from different places, all stuck together in this thing we call a family where the best and the worst of us is often played out.  Since my failing health has caused me to rely on others for my care and I am gradually recovering my strength, I have learned to appreciate the words I have written on those rocks and discovered their true meanings.  Love comes to us in many ways.  It is up to us to embrace life and choose the upward path, all the while seeing the precipice of failure, sadness, depression sinking darkly into a chasm where we can begin to allow ourselves to fall, just a little at a time.  Or, we can fight and regain our lives through His spiritual strength and the Love that was here waiting for us before our days began.  Like the first few waves crashing upon a quiet shore, waiting, waiting... Waiting for this Royal family to come along.  I am thankful to God for all He has given me each day and I would like to recover so I can share what I have learned with others who have walked in the shadows and have forgotten the light and love that is waiting.

Virtually Lovin' It!!

 

What I remember from Valentine's Day was being in elementary school and working with red and white doilies to make hearts and attaching retro cupid stickers to make something special so that Georgie Peorgie would look my way.  Or was it William Farmer?  The one who owned a dairy farm and got kicked in the head by a milk cow on our field trip to another dairy farm?  No, I don't think it could have been him.  I can still recall in clear detail the blue and purple hoof shaped valentine Miss Betsy had left on his face and he got teased quite a bit until the swelling went down and he could open his mouth wide enough to tell us to all get lost.  Or whatever words he chose....We all had fun getting white glue on our fingers and laughing with each other about who loved who and who was getting the most cards.  And of course, we all had to make a special card to take home and one for teacher.  Good memories.

Whenever I go into the dollar store and I see those lacy doilies and glitter pens, I'm always tempted to try and recreate my childhood and see if it really was that great.  Sometimes a moment viewed during the eyes of a child are sweeter and time photo shops the moment by softening the edges, removing the pain of dashed hopes and leaving a beautiful picture of hope for love to begin in our hearts.  

In reading news headlines and hearing reporters crack witty jokes at the expense of politicians today...seeing commercials for aid desperately needed to children and families in lesser fortunate circumstances, my conscience is nudged.  I wonder what I can do to bring Valentine's Day to someone today.  Even if it is not in the traditional meaning with the doilies, white paste still clinging to my fingers and naked cherubs dancing all around.  Today, I'm spending the afternoon with my parents, having a long, lazy lunch at home.  We were supposed to go out but a few of us haven't been feeling well lately so this is a nice invitation for me.  I considered being lazy, selfish and saying no because I was just getting over the flu bug.  But then I remembered that if I scraped past the crust of selfishness, I really have a sweet, center of mushiness that will do just about anything for a friend or my family.

My parents are not as young as they once were and I want to be there for all the invitations they give me now and send some of my own, as well.  Valentine's Day is not about some sainted figure or trying to become one.  For me, Valentine's Day is living in the moment, enjoying our blessings and treating ourselves once in a while...

An Exercise in Humiliation

As part of my "keeping fit and active" therapy, I sat on a bus for 45 minutes.  After this, I arrived at the local gym where I have a membership and I made myself get off of the bus.  For a minute or two, I didn't think I was gonna make it but somehow I peeled myself off the seat and put one foot in front of the other and before I knew it, I was on the sidewalk being blasted by a frigid breath of air.  Huge motivation to get my self indoors.  Once in the changing room, I discovered that my bottle of leave-in conditioner had exploded all over the bottom of my gym bag.  Nice touch.  Anyone else might have called it a day and went to Timmies for a large double double and a "Fancy" chocolate eclair with chocolate icing, and enough whip cream to choke the arteries of a horse...with a cherry on top.  I know...sounds tempting.  But they have stopped making that so I have found another bakery on the corner where they do, minus the cherry but I'm ok with that.  So, there I am in the locker room surrounded by ladies dutifully donning their swimming suits to burn the calories they are about to eat this weekend.  I know this because they are planning their onslaught on the buffets quite loudly with no shame at all.    I think longingly of my eclair and sigh...Slowly, I begin emptying my bag to see the damage my leave-in has "left in" my gym bag.  My lock is covered in the creamy goo and there's a bit on my towel and change of clothes but not much else.  So I clean it all up and change for my swim.  The hot water hits my aching body as I shower and I think how nice it would be to hide in here while everyone else was aerobicizing themselves breathless.  mmmmmm...hot steamy shower....aaaaaaaah.  Guilt kicks in and I step out of the locker room and arrange my towel on a bar.  "How bad can it be?" I ask myself.  The instructor said it was a low level course and judging by the age of the participants, I figured she was right.  Walking confidently into the pool, I introduced myself to my elders and made polite conversation while we waited for the instructors to begin.  After fifteen minutes of "warming up" I thought we were done and I smiled, very proud of myself and turned, preparing to exit the pool.  Then the teacher hollered, "Alright!!!  That was a terrific warm up, now let's get started!!! WAHOO!"

Really??  So I'll be telling my grandchildren how they had to fish my sorry fins out of the bottom of the pool because someone had misnamed this class "Moderate Aquatics"?  I began to follow the motions of the instructor, looking around me as I did so, noting the complete lack of strain and worry on all of my elders' faces.  They were just there having a relaxing little workout as they have been for the last twenty years or so.  No big deal.  I struggled to keep up with the pace, arms flailing and feet akimbo.  Sometimes a foot would come unexpectly flying out of the water as I lost my balance and my backside would begin to sink like a ten ton anchor.  I began drifting unknowingly towards the deep end and the next time I tried to march, I found I was marching on two feet of water.  That can be a little unsettling.  With a little coughing and spluttering, I wove my shameful self between the tougher survivors towards the shallow end.  The very end of the shallow end.  I found myself sticking rather oddly out of the water like an overgrown pond lily so I bent my knees in an attempt to fade into my surroundings.  This made the exercises much more challenging, like trying to play underwater basketball on your knees...without a snorkel.  Still, I kept drifting front, back and sideways while I butterflied, backstroked and bobbled around, never in the same place for more than five seconds.  I was conscious of the knee and hip replacements that I was surrounded by (knowledge I'd gleaned from my earlier conversation) so I tried very hard not to connect any part of my extremities with theirs.  I don't suppose they would kick me out of the pool if I accidentally sent dentures flying during a high kick but then I think I'd rather kick myself out and do penance in the sauna after such a thing.  Another twenty minutes and I was seriously thirsty.  The instructors reminded each other to get a drink and there we were, parched, surrounded by chlorinated water, watching them re-hydrate.  Oh, the irony.  I seriously considered dunking my head under but only for a mili-second before common sense kicked in.  Finally, we were doing our cooling down exercises and I began to rush to the pool side while appearing non-chalant.  This is possible in water because my face was very calm but my feet were running like there was a shark following.  It's rather hard to hurry underwater and look dignified while doing so, but it is possible.  This was not the end of my troubles.  Back in the changing room, we all set about the business of getting ready for the outdoors again and I discovered I had forgotten my hair dryer... oops.  I struggled to open my locker with my wet key in hand while trying to keep my towel on with my elbows.  As my key hit the ground with a metallic "pa-link", I apologized to the ladies while scooping down to recover it. "It was either the towel or the key...I chose the towel and you're welcome."  A few chuckles and guffaws welcomed me into their society and I began to relax and smile at my own misadventures.  I was glad that I had come out of the house today and even though I was tired, and my hair sopping wet, it had been a good afternoon.  Worth noting when one is battling with a mental frame of mind that would rather be in bed more often than not.  As for the results of my workout...well I would honestly be hot footing it down the street right now for that eclair but God knows me very well.  There's a raging blizzard outside.  I guess my thighs and backside are safe...for now.

Take Two

It has been said that laughter is the best medicine. I'm not sure when the saying originated but I'm guessing they were out of morphine that day or some such necessity and had to substitute with a bottle of hard liquor and some really awful knock knock jokes. "Orange who?" "Orange you wishing you'd been here yesterday when we had better medicine?" Well this is one video I can't seem to resist laughing with. There are a few others but I'm saving them for a rainy day....and to keep you in suspense OF COURSE! Thanks to a very handsome, chocolatey eyed sweetheart who reminded me of MP! xoxo

Prim and Proper Roses

I have been graciously reminded that Pansies and Primroses are two different types of flower.  I suppose in my state of twitterpated excitement I got discombobulated.. Two different words, same meaning.  Pansy, Primrose, GORGEOUS SPRING FLOWERS!!! The following lunacy is dedicated to you, my darling, enchanted, flower of a girl.....


It's almost spring; that vernal time of year when birds of song or le chant des oiseaux as they are commonly called (in France) are just testing out the first few notes of  A. Coplands "Spring Composition" and other noteable works of music from 1944.  Some are just twittering away, heedless of rhythm, timing and poetic facial (beak-al) expression but I suppose that is all one can expect of a simple sparrow.  In the evening, you might think it's just a baby howling it's little curly head off when all it is only the neighbor's "chat" having a go at the full yellow moon.  What is it about the planet's alignment with the earth at this time of year that causes us all to just "lose it" or temporarily suspend grey matter functionality, if you prefer.  Maybe the moon is reflecting more of the sun and that is changing the very flow of the blood in our veins, causing our heartbeats to quicken inherently expecting the warm breezes and blossoms to follow.  Or maybe our wallets lighten every time we pass the gardening section at Target and this lets us know that spring is well on its way.  Perhaps it's not the most common way of charting the seasons but certainly very practical.  
Today, I did the right thing and told my primroses that they were English.  At that, they straightened up almost unnoticeably and seemed to cock their petal shaped ears in my direction for the rest of the news. "You are NOT pansies, so man up", I told them.  "You are Primroses.  English Primroses.  From now now there'll be none of this wilting around if I forget to water you just the week you think I should.  And for heaven's sakes, can't you do something about those unsightly dead blooms?  I would think it a matter of dignity that you would take care of your own dead.  If I have to come in there......it ain't gonna be pretty."  I've tried the love talk and crooning and watering on demand.  Let's see if Dr. Spock works on these hardy specimens of flora.  I'm still not sure how they're taking the news but time will tell...

Pansies

Last week I brought home six bedraggled pansies from the market.  The nicer ones were two dollars each but I saw a tray of neglected looking flowers with yellow leaves and dying blossoms and the deal-finder in me rushed over to check the price.  They were only a dollar.  Hmmm...I'm historically terrible at raising any type of indoor greenery but I really liked the idea of trying one more time.  So, the vendor let me have all six for five dollars and I carted them home gingerly wrapped in plastic.  When my flowers and I arrived home, the first thing I did was to find a sunny spot for them.  The window box I had purchased second hand for just this purpose was too big to fit on my sill so I placed it on my dresser next to a sunny window.  It made me smile to see them there, so cute and content in their new surroundings.  After removing the dead leaves and blossoms and making sure they had enough water, I gave them one last admiring look and left the room to get dinner.  The next day, I noticed they were just a bit greener and a couple of the buds had blossomed.  I was so happy to see the flowers and the feeling of hope and springtime they brought with their journey from the earth.  Since I was alone, I praised them for being so beautiful and stroked the leaves that were getting greener and healthier each day.  I read somewhere that in recovering from depression, one should first care for a house plant, then a pet to qualify them for a relationship with another human being.  I don't know if that's true or not but this morning when I woke up, the first thing I did was to peek over at my pansies and check for more flowers and leaves.  They looked so wonderful and healthy, I pulled the shade and plopped them on the windowsill to catch a few extra rays on this cloudy day.  I now had something to care for and nurture, besides myself.  I enjoy the beauty they bring to my room.  I do feel a little badly about spraying them with body mist the first night they were home because they didn't smell like anything but now I think they're great just the way they are and I'm so proud of their daily growth and healthy blossoms.

 I suppose it's a bit like that with children.  They're born looking like something not quite like we pictured but there's still something in us that makes us love them and care for them anyhow.  Each day, they fatten up a little and take on new behaviours that make us love them even more.  We coo little endearments to them and stroke their foreheads dreaming of the time they'll sleep through the night.  Then, all too soon, they've toddled their way through time to the day they're asking for help with college admissions and you wonder how they could have blossomed so quickly...almost overnight.  The days spent waiting for new growth and encouraging them on to reach for more sunshine have unfolded this beautiful young adult; a friend, shopping buddy and sous chef in the kitchen with Sinatra or Buble crooning in the background.  I am so glad for the days I have been able to spend with my little darlings and now they have grown into young adulthood, each finding their way, reaching for the light.  So, this spring, when I put together their care packages, I'll be sure and include the traditional seed packages, gloves and gardening tools that they've come to expect as part of their Easter treat.  The tradition continues as they sit down during the early spring hours and gaze out of a cool window to imagine the garden that will grow from their love.

To Duress or not to Dress

Well today is another day.  The coffee I had yesterday that was strong enough to spank me and take me home for supper has worn off and I'm feeling just a bit tired from all the excitement.  I have an appointment this afternoon and I'm wondering if I should try a little swim today to up my serotonin levels.  Tomorrow I volunteer for three hours at a place I really enjoy so I want to have energy for that as well.  I think I will rest until I have to leave, then go swimming afterwards.  I really don't want to go anywhere at all.  I know the results from my swim will be worth it and I will feel on top of the world, energetic and in a great mood.  It's possible that I might be able to dare one of my friends to come with me.  Usually I dare her that I can get ready faster and usually, I'm the one sliding down the banister to see her stuff already on the front porch and her standing there like she was beamed directly from her clothes closet to the great outdoors.  I don't know how she does it, she's so laid back and relaxed.  While I'm trying to figure out which boot goes on my left foot, she has already washed, dressed and made it down the stairs to give me that "HA! I beat you (again)" look...not that I mind.  We are both forced into leaving the house and I consider that a major coup de gras in our battle with depression.  And yes, I really do slide down the banister, generally when no one is looking and I need to do something childish that will cheer me up again.

Delicious Surprises

Today was quite an interesting day and full of unexpected surprises.  I surprised myself by getting out of bed and going to my group therapy appointment.  I surprised myself grandly by remembering the correct bus number I needed for my transfer.  I surprised myself by agreeing to lunch with my parents afterwards, even though all I wanted to do was go home and curl up for a nap.  I surprised myself even further by ordering REAL coffee (in other words avec caffeine, oh horrors!) and by thanking the handsome brown waiter for bringing brown sugar to the table.  He asked if I needed any more and I surprised myself by declining the offer, saying I had enough right there.  Maybe I shouldn't have said it quite like that or looked at him quite that way but then sometimes I surprise even me.  Surprise!  I wonder if the laughter I heard behind me directly after that was about the faux pas I had committed or some other amusing incident.  Life is so full of surprises and I was glad I had made time for my family as we enjoyed a long leisurely lunch together and I stuffed myself with too much delicious food.  I came home and spent hours working on a letter of intent that I had been putting off for two days.  I was quite surprised that I spent that amount of time on it after I'd finished and I downright shocked myself by re-arranging my resume to match the letter.  It's amazing what the day can bring when we least expect it.  I have a sense of accomplishment in a task well done and I'm excited to hear the reply I'll get.  I'm competing with almost one hundred people for a class that is in high demand and is only held twice a year with a high price tag as well.

The crying I did yesterday has eased the pain somewhat and I can distract myself much the same as one would a fractious toddler.  The thought of creating a new future is daunting but also attractive as well.  I wasn't expecting to enjoy today as much as I did when I was contemplating just pulling the covers over my head and calling it quits after a fitful night of tossing and turning.  Thankfully, my house mate dropped her hair dryer six or seven times on the hardwood floor around the time I was making that momentous decision and I knew I wouldn't get any more rest that morning.  So, I went to class.  I had a great lunch.  I enjoyed the dessert bar, even though I mostly only looked at it.  I ate my traditional red jello with my chopsticks as usual and read my fortune while rolling my eyes.  As usual.  So somewhere in the usual routine of everyday life are tucked little surprises like love notes from a friend, urging us to keep going.  Smile though your heart is breaking...I think the songwriter wrote.  Today, I smiled.

Mourning of a New Day

I've torn a ligament before and I remember that hurting like...well, like nothing I'd ever done to my right leg before.  I've even given birth to children without the benefit of drugs but nothing hurts like this awful hole in my heart.  Where there was laughter and bubbles and snacks with a story before bed, there is a phone call where I can hear the wistful tone of voice and I hold back the tremble in my voice until I'm safely off the line.  My mind could not handle the pain of a life without them, my three rambunctious teenagers whose freckly smiles have filled my days for the last 18 years.  Through circumstance and God's divine will, I am alone and trying to lead by example.  I edit essays via phone and email, I fb cute messages to them each day so they know they are loved and I'm thinking of them.  What I would like to do is to go somewhere far, far away where no one could hear me and let out the howl of despair and anguish that is stuffed down deep into my soul.  I would be like the Jews during the second world war or really any period in their history when they mourned.  It would be so satisfying to let the pain out, tear my clothes over my heart where it's broken and put dirt over my head to show the depth of my pain.  No pride or protocol.  Just raw emotion of a mother in pain and trying her best to follow the path that is laid out before her.  Sure, there will be satisfaction in learning to help others and achieving a degree to have, my first one.  I will have time and love and energy to pour into helping others make themselves whole again.  First, I have to give up this primal battle of pain and promise of a new future and just let it be.  I'm not sure how to do that but that is what this journey is about.  It's almost mid-night and I have an early therapy appointment tomorrow so I really should be getting some rest.  Not to worry, I have perfected leaping out of my bed and getting from pj's to bus stop in under 20 minutes, head to toe.  No need to call Guinness, I'm sure some single mother has the record on that already.  We've all had those mornings where the power is out overnight and everyone oversleeps.  Mine have actually eaten cereal in the car on the way to school with their juice boxes and vitamins.  I remember getting out of the car in the back of the school where nobody could see and giving each of them a huge hug to last the day and a kiss...usually in my robe and pajamas.  My oldest would always wait to be last so she could get the most and sometimes would come back for seconds so I'd dip her, kiss her cheek a bunch and smack her on the butt to start the day with a smile.  I think it's those early days and all the affection they were used to that make it so hard for me to think of them now without that.  They're getting a roof and food, not much else.  I have to acknowledge that for once, and not for the first time, a situation is out of my control and I just have to trust my Maker to look after them for me.  My heart aches for them and it's hard to feel that pain and be this new person that I'm inventing.  One with a new home, friends old and new as well as completely different plans for my future than I ever would have dreamed.  So...a little excitement eases the pain and I wonder what tomorrow will bring.  I think I'll skip the decaf and go straight for the hard stuff in the morning.  Then I'll make sure I take my anti anxiety medication right along with it to counter balance my large double double.  Ah the joy of self medicating...but they only call it that if you're depressed.  The rest of the people get to refer to it as a wonderful culinary experience.  I wonder what Juan Valdez would think of that.  For that matter, I wonder what his donkey would have to say about it.  I don't suppose I'll ever find out.