Yesterday was so great. It started out with an MRI that took for-ev-er but was really pretty easy, as far as those things go. Poor Mr. FixIt has claustrophobia so he has to be medicated to have an MRI. He wasn’t always like that. He has worked in a field where he needed to crawl into tight places to work and design better ways of doing things. But when he had an MRI, the technician told him to just yell if he had any trouble. He started getting panicky and yelled, but the guy didn’t answer so he climbed out of the machine. That was the end of that...it’s either meds or alcohol. Take your pick.
Memories are like pictures in a shoebox. Sometimes you get to find out what happened to that girl.
She was just a little girl when I first met Caroline. Two years my junior, I felt ever so much older and worldly than the little girl with the long, straight hair. Caroline had an older brother about my brother Gary’s age. Our brothers both went to the “special school” in our home town. Our moms knew each other through the Easter Seal Treatment Center where the boys both received speech and physical therapy. My mom was the secretary. Caroline’s mom volunteered whenever mom needed envelopes stuffed for the fundraisers that were held periodically.
We’ve always thought of the POOR as being from other countries. More and more the POOR are living among us right here in America.
When I say we were poor growing up, compared to others we were doing just fine. Sure, we ate a lot of food from Grandma’s garden in the summers and took the canned jars home that she offered us. We had to make a pound of hamburger feed four...two of them male with hearty appetites. And my dad used to grow a garden on the empty lot out behind our house. I remember we would get half a beef and eat from the freezer for a year. We didn’t have a lot of extras, and we lived in a small, modest house in a clean, safe neighborhood...so we were actually pretty golden.
When your body hurts and you don’t know why, keep asking till you get the answers.
Three years ago, I went on a health improvement journey. I did great! I lost forty-five pounds or so. I got lean and strong and fit. I was eating clean and green. I could walk a flight of 176 stairs nine times without huffing and puffing. Mr. FixIt and I started dating. I did really well the first year keeping up with my diet and exercise. Then, winter set in, I started knitting full time, and my dear friend Janine said, “Write your book! You can knit at the book signings!”
Wake it up and shake it up and change this world for the better!
Last Sunday, our Pastor delivered another wonderful message. This time he was talking about how we can get flat and stale in our faith after time. We can become complacent and go to church simply to be fed every week. We can get comfortable. We may think, “I’m saved...I’m good. I don’t need to _________ (fill in the blank...serve, share, invite, get involved). We can do that, of course. But, we could be so much more if we just shook things up.
Too much grey, rainy weather can make one feel blue. Or, it can bring you into a cozy place.
This is the time of year when we get a ton of rain. It makes me laugh to say that because, really...West Virginia gets TONS of rain. Period. I lived in the semi-arid climate of Colorado for forty years. I was dried up like a prune...constantly dehydrated. Then I moved back to my beloved home state and actually felt my skin soaking up the moisture.
Poor Kitty got an abscess that needed to get fixed yesterday. She got a new body suit to protect her stitches.
First off, let me say that any penny ante thing that I had to deal with yesterday pales in comparison with how great it feels to see my sweetheart turning back into his sweet, handsome self. No one wants to hear those words...”You’ve had a stroke.” It takes the starch right out of you. It’s not only a physical blow, but a psychological one, as well. His hand is getting better every day. It’s no longer tingly...just a little numb. Improvement is wonderful. We’ll take that any day of the week! Thank you, Jesus!
Do any of you remember being quarantined as a child?
***sigh***
Fear mongering is rampant in this day and age. Good night nurse...you can’t turn on the TV without seeing horrifying stories about everything. Every. Darned. Thing. It’s really beginning to get to me. My blood pressure is high enough from the stress of Mr. FixIt’s episode last week. I don’t need to see the horrors...real and imagined...being played out on every channel with a signal.
Being alone in the world and staring death in the face takes great courage.
She grew up poor as a church mouse but didn’t know it. She took in every stray cat there was within a country mile. She fiercely protected her brother with the stutter and the lazy eye. She walked a mile to catch the bus for the 40 mile round trip to school. She got a college education because that’s what her parents insisted of all of their kids...poor or not.
It’s so easy to slip into the “comfort zone”. Once you’re there, you definitely want to stay. There have been so many times I’ve been yanked out of my comfort zone...kicking and screaming. And every single time, I’ve grown bigger and better because of it.
When I was uncomfortably ensconced in a “Behavioral Unit” after the overdose, I went from reading Harry Potter to my daughter at night to harsh lights, loud voices, scary people, and a strictly supervised environment. I remember telling someone I felt like a slug on a hot griddle. The cells in my brain felt like they were sizzling. I was most definitely uncomfortable, but I discovered an inner warrior I had never really known.
