Once upon a time, on the first day of Spring...

a boy and a girl were married.

 

From the day the Boy had first seen her, he knew she was The One. So exactly 2 years after they first formed their household union, they were to make it a permanent one with signatures and flowers and a solemn ceremony.

This ceremony was to take place high in the majestic mountains of the magical faraway land where they lived called "Vail Colorado." There was snow in its mountains, even on the first day of Spring, and the Holy Man who would perform their ceremony was out in that snow performing a different sort of ceremony with 2 poles and 2 flat pieces of wood. His Holy Watch was apparently broken, causing him to rush in late wearing muddy boots.

The Boy, the Girl, a friend named Mildred and the Girl's young and beautiful sister all passed secret smiles amongst themselves on observing the man's muddy footwear, it being irregular indeed to wear such attire to perform this solemn ceremony, and didst bring them a chuckle.

The Girl's younger sister with the naturally occurring dark hair played a stringed instrument and sang a moving ballad to the young couple. The Holy Man attempted to lead the ceremonial participants in a recitation of the Lord's Prayer. Again they passed secret smiles amongst themselves while mouthing words that may or may not have been correct, as the raven-haired sister of immense beauty was the only person besides the Holy Man familiar with the words. And didst I mention she sang like an angel?

In time the Boy grew into a Man, knowing all the more surely that, indeed, she was The One.Their union was strong, unusual in the fickle and self-serving times in which they lived. Their time lasted into 4 decades,  cut short only by her untimely death. The Man and the now unnaturally raven-haired sister still grieve, but as they share the story of The Old Days and the Holy Man of the muddy boots, and of the first day of Spring all those decades before,


they smile.


Skimmer's Recap: Canst thou tell who the young sister may have been? The Girl Bride was actually the pretty one, but she would have found the shameless younger sister's telling of this story amusing.
(Hi Keith! i love you!)

Good Grief observes the holidays.

I had read at one point in my grief research (yes, that is me, don't just HAVE it, read MORE about it!) where someone said that month 8 often saw a resurgence of grief for a loved one. So I kept a squiggy eye out for it around November, the beginning of the Season of Overeating.

 

Of course holidays carry their own special sting with the loss of a loved one, and Thanksgiving was no different. I charged cheerfully into the meal preparation, determined to enjoy the process and drag joy out of even the grocery shopping. Dammit, I'm gonna have me some JOY!

And I did. I talked to strangers in the grocery stores, one time offering a listening ear to a man with the "deer in the headlights" look mumbling to himself and whoever was nearby, "Can I defrost a turkey in a day? Should I just buy a fresh one?" I love these moments, because I am not a cook, but I can appear as a Martha Stewart Angel to a stranger. For a moment, (a moment I hold closely to my heart,) I can APPEAR to be an all-knowing goddess. After I told him how much more I had spent on a fresh, brined turkey at Trader Joe's the day before, he decided to buy the fresh instead of frozen one. (Though it may have been the less Martha Stewart part of me and more the *real* me saying, "I dunno, mine is always still partly frozen" that won him over....)

Anyway, shopping came and went, and the chopping and peeling commenced. I remained calm and somewhat joyful. But once the major things were prepped and I went off to shower and get out of my baggy sweatpants and into something more guest appropriate, it hit me.

Even if I didn't talk to my sister every Thanksgiving, even if it was more of a pre or post "What did you have? Who was there?" conversation from our separate states of California and Oregon, I COULDN'T.

 

Not even if I wanted to.

 

Fortunately, this disolving julie has awesome children who actually and weirdly LIKE to cook, and they took over and finished up dinner while I used cold water and makeup to cover up the sudden grief that had overtaken me. Did I mention they're awesome?

 

And now, going into Christmas, I've decorated a Patti Tree, clothing it in her colors of purple, green, and blue. And when I see it I smile. And I hear her saying, "I wish I could be with you guys for Christmas, you're so much fun!" And I think of Patti, and I miss Patti, but I have a sense of her with me, surrounding me.

My "Patti tree" complete with Penny the cat.
Just the way she would have liked it.

 

I'll try to hold onto that happy feeling when it's time to wash the Christmas dishes.

 

 

Skimmer's Recap: Grief is normal, grief is good. Pass the turkey.

 

 



Fitness fun with heart rate monitors.

Okay, so admittedly there are days when my Polar FT7 heart rate monitor should read, "stop talking and get back to your workout!" But what if you vigorously chat? Surely extra calories are burned....

I have to admit to having fun with my HRM. I wore it for 24 hours of a low-key, no exercise day to see what my basic activity calorie burn was. (About 64 per hour.) So of course I had to do another similarly semi-scientific experiment and wear it into the Infrared Sauna at the gym.

"It's supposed to burn 300 to 600 hundred calories in the half hour you're in there!" my gym's owner told me. So what do you think I'm going to do? Of course I'm going to wear my heart rate monitor into the sauna, I mean, who wouldn't? (Okay okay, I see your hands--)

So I sat and read and sweated profusely for my 30 minutes.....to the tune of 135 calories burned, which is roughly 4 times the burn of simply sitting and reading without the sauna. It's higher than the basic rate of about 32 calories per half hour, but no place close to 300. The sauna did raise my heart rate, but only to 122. So maybe if I do the workout in the sauna I can burn the 300 to 600?? And get my first ambulance ride to the hospital?

The most revealing thing in my HRM experience thus far is that, like Dr. Gregory House says, "Everybody lies." The sauna people lie. The elliptical lies. Even the treadmill lies. For all the months I've been using MyFitnessPal.com, I had been relying on their database of calories burned for my weight for exercise, or using the numbers from the gym equipment. Come to find out, they all lie. I burn far fewer than their numbers. And the more weight you lose, the fewer calories I can eat to continue to lose, so those extra couple of hundred calories the database or the fitness equipment gave me were welcome, yes welcome indeed, but meant I was eating more calories than would work for losing weight.

So, since I have been using my heart rate monitor, have I now lost many many more pounds, you ask excitedly? And I am forced to answer "no" for I am proof that calories are not created equally. Apparently you cannot celebrate your birthday for the whole month with cake etc. even if it's within your calorie count, and still lose weight. Big fat bummer.

I'm trying to do better--more salads, more lean meats, less lovely cake.....  *sigh*...... So between the heart rate monitor and my conscience, maybe the numbers will begin to move again....once I've lost the numbers from the lovely cake..... *sigh*....

But I'm still not going to be able to resist when my son-in-law the Chef makes creamy, chocolately ice cream goodness. (It was sooo good! Thanks, Luis!)

Skimmer's recap: Maybe "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!" but if you can, get a heart rate monitor. Eventually you'll quit mourning the death of those extra calories the equipment said you'd shed. Plus, you can semi-scientifically amuse yourself and wear it into a sauna.

On depression and the magic of cupcake papers.

What is so magical about these little cupcake liners? Maybe it's that they look like little sunshines. Or that cupcakes usually mean some fun is around the corner. All I know is that as I've been fighting my way back uphill out of depression-land, seeing them made me smile.

I know I'm hard on myself--I don't "do" enough, whatever it is. You know: work out/eat salads/cut out chocolate/contribute to life... And I find that I can't seem to forgive myself for having Fibromyalgia and being "less than" because of that too.

BUT--tonight is a fun and special night. Granddaughter Cassidy turned 12 yesterday, and tonight her mommy, my eldest daughter, is bringing dinner over and we're having cupcakes for Cassidy's birthday. Candie's making her awesome 90 gazillion calories per serving macaroni and cheese, and I'm making a salad--and the all-important cupcakes.

If you're not familiar with depression, it has the talent of robbing a person of their interest in life, their desire to do the things they'd usually enjoy, so couple that with the lack of energy and the body pain of Fibro and life can become a struggle. So it surprised me when I found myself smiling over such a simple little thing as cupcake papers with their crinkly little sides. It was a lovely little gift.

It's good for all of us to look for the happy little positive things of life, they called it "intentional happiness" in my pain management class. All I know is I had to put a picture of them on my blog and see if they make you smile too.

New Year's Anti-Resolutions, OR, Things I've Learned from New Year's Resolutions.

i am the first person at the end of the year to make a resolution for the new year--that of NOT making any resolutions. Why should i resolve to become organized in the new year, or thin, or to save more money? Why should i make a big statement that i am destined to fail?

Negative, you say? My hubby calls it "being a realist" when i accuse him of being negative. i'm borrowing that for the moment.

It's called "knowing myself." Big statements do not work for this girl. i have always moved at a slower, more casual pace than many others. i'm a big believer in the "don't sweat it" style of being. Not that i don't have my convictions--i do, it's more that i have always had the tendency to beat myself up for my perceived failings. "You idiot" is at the ready in my brain when i make a mistake. "You slob" is waiting to pop into my head when i look around at the casual mess of my space. (Which is exactly what happens when you don't sweat it.)

This year, i think i'll put into place the things i've learned from New Year's Resolutions past:

*i will correct myself just like i would correct my children when i hear "idiot" and "slob" and such words in my head. NO NAME CALLING!! Certainly if i work to avoid calling people names in traffic, i can at least extend the same courtesy to myself, right?

*Frankly, my "getting organized" isn't as much of a problem as KEEPING organized. Well, really, they both go against my nature. i am a visual person--i tend to forget things if they are out of sight (in that perfectly organized world.) Therefore i will accept this and try to work with it. i will have pretty things out to pile things in, creating decorative messes. i will continue to work toward a paper organizing system that works for ME, and i'm pretty sure that will also include pretty containers.

*i will accept that i love to start things before i finish the last project. i am fickle. Today i want to knit, but tomorrow i may want to use my new loom. It is what it is. Again, i think decorative containers may play a part.

*i will accept that i am a jack of all trades and master of none. i have fought this for years, calling myself names when i can no longer limit myself to one thing, like writing. God made me the creative disaster i am, He knows i love many things. Writing makes me happy. Fibers make me happy. Scrapbooks make me happy. i'm sure i'd be tidier if i had fewer hobbies......HAHAHAHAHAAA!!!  No.

*i know more about diets than most, because i've been on most diets. Do they work? Not generally, but they make for good reading.

***This year i will focus on making a better choice one choice at a time.

i will not resolve to become thin, i will choose to eat healthier each time i eat.

i will not resolve to become wealthy, each time i think i need that beautiful skein of yarn or pack of scrapbook stickers i will choose to pause and ask "do i need it," and maybe the answer will be "no." If i then put that money in savings, will it add up? i bet it will.

i will think more and treat myself less. This includes purchases, foods, even the most sacred of all, chocolate.

i will keep working one choice at a time toward organization in small ways: putting "like with like" (no more chasing the cell phone chargers etc through the entire house,) and choosing to put things away where they go.

If i bring something INTO the house, something else must go out--- hahahahaa! i can dream.

i will choose to work within the realities of ME. And i choose to take on this new year of 2011 one choice at a time. (It's less scary that way.)

Skimmer's recap: Not so big on resolutions. How about you? Are you a resolution maker? If so, what kinds of things do you resolve to do?

Busy April!!

April is a busy birthday month for our family. We started out celebrating Dean's birthday at Pyzano's, a local and excellent pizza place. Various among us tried to channel the birthday boy's mustache--although we should have added some pizza flour to make the color more realistic.

i think i look totally natural, personally--

though grandson Trevor looks pretty darn Mario-like in it. (i can hear the music playing now!)

Granddaughter Haley definitely gets the "cutest girl in a 'stache" vote.

Below is Cori and Luis' place--i love it! (Plus they're much tidier than i have ever been.) It's a Craftsman bungalow with built-ins, like the china cabinet you can see behind the table. The tablecloth is an old one from my side of the family and looks perfect in their place on the antique table they bought when they moved in.

Why the photos? This lovely meal was cooked by Cori and Luis for Luis' 30th birthday celebration. And have i mentioned (a million times, maybe?) that he's the executive chef for Mamacita, an upscale Mexican restaurant in San Francisco?

It was great--chicken breasts (from quite well-endowed chickens,) asparagus risotto, and an arugula and strawberry salad. Mmmmm. Topped off by a chocolate cake. And good wine. Here's to many more of their birthdays where they cook!!

Then we moved onto Jarel's 22nd birthday--


This is Jarel with friend David, horsing around at his birthday breakfast. He had a great party with a lot of his friends at the house, and an adorable dinosaur cake from Costco that his mommy picked out. :-)

Somewhere in the midst of all this, the Danville Grandgirls took me on a whirlwind shopping and bowling tour. i was consistently 6 steps behind--Cassidy almost left the shoe store with two different size shoes (way to go Grandma!) but we were saved by the observant clerk.

Grandma again experienced being more steps behind as i was beat by Haley in two consecutive games, topped off by a boy about Haley's age who was there with his family, asking my 12 year old granddaughter for her phone number without me noticing. Let's just say Grandma is out of practice!

skimmer's recap: Just look at the pictures. Close enough.


OH! How could i have forgotten to mention the birthday of GrandBrit Elias tomorrow? He's 7!

Happy birthday, somewhere--

Today is March 10. It's my brother's birthday. Though i haven't seen him since some time in 1989, when March 10th rolls around i remember.

It's not that he's dead, at least not to my knowledge. All i know is when i sent his Christmas present in 1989, it came back. "Return to sender: Moved No forwarding address."

He was my big brother, the one to go straighten out the kid at the playground who knocked me off the monkey bars. We were never really close, he and my sister were closer in age and more into the same things at the same time. He was in a garage band, she was into the boys around the band. Stuff like that. i was nearly 4 years younger than my sister but he was separated from her by only 2 years. While he was rockin' the rebellious hair, i was in awe of the first girl in my 5th grade class to wear a bra. Widely different places in life.

i don't guess i was too surprised at his leaving the family. Our father had recently died, my sister and brother had stopped communicating with our mother, and even when we'd all shared the same house we were far from the Cleavers. Heck, the Addams Family was more the All-American family than we were. (And their house was way cooler too.)

We three children all had our issues with our parents, not an uncommon thing in a family. But i've never understood my brother leaving us. My sister and i are still close, perhaps closer as we've gotten older and realized we Did Good surviving the chaos with still liking each other.

i will probably never know why my brother left with no forwarding address, but at least once a year, on March 10th, i stop and remember the big brother i once had who gave the kid at the park the what-for to stand up for his little sister.

Happy birthday, Michael, somewhere!

The 50s Thanksgiving celebration.

Me playing at being the consummate 50s hostess.

left to right: Daughter Corinne's hubby Luis, his brother Fabian, Corinne in front of them. Son Jarel, barely peeking out from the back with my hubby Dean at back center. Dorothy (Candie's mother-in-law) with daughter Candie to her right. Fabian's girlfriend Hanna peeking out between them. Candie's husband Charles at back right, and their two lovely girls, Cassidy and Haley. Note the lovely cranberry gelatin mold in front. ;-)

Cassidy and Haley dressed up to match Grandma Julie's 50s theme.
i believe a good time was had by all.

A 1950s Thanksgiving.

Well, i've been back from England for nearly a week now, and my body and brain might just be getting back on the right time zone. Between the usual loads of laundry and piles of dishes, i've been looking up recipes. When thinking about the Thanksgiving menu, daughter Cori came up with the idea of casseroles--from there we jumped to the idea of a 1950s theme. Jello mold anyone?

So i've been cruising the internet for foods in gelatin. What else says 50s like Jello with grated vegetables in it? i've found some great sounding recipes, though, to my surprise! i mean, for me personally, if it contains cream cheese i will come. Or cranberries and pineapple. These sound good to me.

i also need an interesting dessert, besides the pecan pie i can't help but make. Any 50s desserts ideas?

Oh--and i will be wearing my pearls and best apron.

On turning 55.

i turned 55 on the 9th, and the 11th was our 32nd anniversary. We had the anniversary date loong before it became a week to be filled with tv shows about the Twin Towers and terrorists.

i'm weirdly happy to be 55--i can get the Tuesday Senior's discount at Ross Dress for Less, and i'm sure other good things will come. i'm even celebrating the big 55 by making a scrapbook called "55 Things About Me" which i will fill with a list of stuff i like, places i've lived, stuff like that. i am "marking the occasion" rather than letting it slide by.

So today i thought "wonder what i'll get if i do a Google search for images about age 55?" And here's the first thing i found, thanks to Gosnell Realtors--

i am SO done looking.

In honor of Father's Day!!

FIRST (and partly for my own amusement)

stupid things some people's parents have said:

"STOP CRYING OR I'LL GIVE YOU SOMETHING TO CRY ABOUT!!"
The logic of this one has eluded me for years and years....OH! Maybe because there IS no logic to it.

"WHEN I SAY JUMP I WANT YOU TO SAY 'HOW HIGH?'" This used to drive fear into my heart when my father would say it, but now it makes me giggle. i'm sure he would have preferred a snappy salute and a "SIR!" at the end of the "How high?" Oddly, i'm pretty sure that neither myself or my siblings ever actually answered this request.

One of my personal favorites from a father of a friend:
"I WANT WHAT I WANT!!" Okay, you and every 2 year old in the nation--what makes you think you're special?

SECOND (and because i really really mean this and it's the real point of the post)

HUUUUGE blessings and kudos to all the men out there who avoided those sorts of inane statements, and who have instead provided loving encouragement and guidance. Not to say that you never raised your voice or got frustrated, i mean come on, we're all human...
So, HAPPY FATHER'S DAY TO ALL THE GOOD GUYS AND ROLL MODELS OUT THERE! i hope you know who you are, and know how much we appreciate you. That includes you, my dear hubby.

A little Tuesday extra.

Given that today, April Fool's Day, is the day my hubby proposed to me aaaall those years ago (32) i figure i will put an extra little photo op on the ol' blog.

The two things have absolutely nothing to do with each other. But i wanted to say that about April Fool's, and i wanted to put the photos on. So, yeh.


Above are a couple of photos of when hubby and i visited his doggy Dynamo in the local Castro Valley Vet Hotel--oh they were glad to see each other! BUT, Dyno didn't come home today, either. He's still having issues and needing treatment. (cha ching!) Poor Dynamo, he really wanted out of that crate when he heard us coming. He looked so small, but then he was 2 doors down from a cat that looked to be about his same size.

Day to remember.

Christmas day was lazy for me--years ago, i used to be the one trying to get the potatoes to be ready when the stuffing was ready when the turkey was ready, and remember how the heck to make gravy. These days, and for a number of years past, i contribute in some small way, but haven't been the main chef. This has been due to the fact that my oldest loves to cook, and my youngest daughter's husband loves to cook. Me, not so much. So i'm very happy to be the cheerleader: "Go, team, go! Cook, team, cook!" These days the biggy for me is making cinnamon rolls for whoever is at my house on Christmas morning.

This year we had Christmas dinner at my daughter Corinne's house, where she and husband/chef Luis were in charge of the eating festivities. For appetizers we had a selection of cheeses with baguettes and red grapes. Then we had a tender lamb roast stuffed with sauteed chard and feta cheese, with herbed mashed potatoes, and roasted parsnips and carrots in a maple and mustard glaze. Luis had roasted beets and did whatever one does to roasted beets, and made a lovely salad of beets, watercress, and candied walnuts in a citrus vinagrette.

At not-quite-seven, grandgirl Cassidy loved the sugared walnuts and the dressing, but wasn't so crazy "about the cress." She also wouldn't eat the carrots, but ate the parsnips. Haley, ten, will eat pretty much any vegetable, and has been caught with her finger in more than one dessert, but she didn't like the sugared nuts. What kid doesn't like pretty much anything covered in sugar?

Our family seems to have a gift for overdoing the whole dessert thing, though. We had less than the usual almost one dessert per person--only a one dessert to two people ratio this time around. We all managed to get some of that down. It was a great meal, the 11 of us fit just fine in a small living/dining room, something i think a few of us (namely Corinne and Luis!) were concerned about.

It's a bigtime thankful thing for me, being together like that, especially while enjoying someone else's cooking.

Christmas thoughts.

holly trees

outside my childhood home

sweet smell

of green needled boughs dripping

from mantles

tinsel

found months later in crannies

question

each year

of white lights or colored

the new again

of treasured ornaments

the old again

of Christmas songs

the joy

in gifts given in love

the greater joy

of God's Gift

received

Remember.

Something new for Christmas.

This is not a lovely story of Christmas cheer, rather, this is a story of simply me at Christmas.

i usually am not thrilled about wrapping gifts. My sister got the ability to make neat corners and pretty bows, and the joy in coordinating ribbons and papers. i got the ability of admiring her neat corners, pretty bows and coordinating ribbons and papers. These days my answer to the wrapping dilemma is to find paper i like and buy a bag of bows, hopefully in the after-Christmas sales to use the next year. Oh--and sticky tags. i love those sticky tags. But weirdly, i was in the mood to wrap presents yesterday, so i pulled out my couple of rolls of paper, my sticky tags and bag of bows (from last year's after Christmas sales) and started wrapping.

As i pulled a gift from the box where i'd been stuffing the presents as i'd bought them over the months, i thought, Weird, i'd swear i already wrapped this same thing.

Since it is a gift for my husband, and since he does at least *skim* this blog, i can't get too specific. But yes, i have apparently bought the same thing for him twice this year for Christmas. Guess i must think he'll like it--guess i must have thought a couple of times that he'd like it.

This is something i don't recall doing on previous years--but then, i didn't recall buying the same thing twice, either.

I'M THE QUEEN OF THE DAY!!

i can eat donuts in bed and not floss my teeth--it's my birthday!!

i can watch movies all day with my computer in my lap--it's my birthday!

i can ignore the dishes, ignore the mess--yup, say it with me--it's my birthday!

i've always struggled against, for whatever complicated reasons, feeling like a victim. Like life happens to me, and i have little choice. As a part of this, i've always kept a wary eye on my upcoming birthdays, both dreading and desiring their arrival. "Maybe this time i'll be special! But probably not." And, wary eye or not, the Birthday Beast has often developed fangs and wicked claws, and shredded the heck out of me. My birthday has been one of the last holdouts against all those years of therapy, perhaps of the resistent birthday gene. While no longer waiting for others to make my life happen, i have still desired others to make my birthday happen.

My sister and i have talked about the fact that we both have hated our birthdays. Wanting to be special? Wanting to matter? OH the guilt! i've tried it every way possible--set up my own celebrations, waited for others, gone shopping and hoped someone bought me a cake while i was gone, spent the day doing crafts, spent the day in my room. But let me tell you, if you already feel guilty for wanting your birthday to be a special day, nothing is a good way to celebrate.

But weirdly, this year i am okay with my day. i thought it might be a problem since i'm 54 and i don't like even numbers as well as odd, and last year i turned 53 after having been born in '53, and that was too perfect, but then i realized that if i add the 5 and the 4, it equals 9!! And that is my perfect number! 9 for September, 9 for the 9th day of the month, and 5 plus 4 equals 9! So i can't help but be happy. Plus, i'm more settled into the Mentally Healthy fact--birthdays wait for no man, and i get to have a guilt free day!

My dear hubby has gone off to Rudy's, the local donut shop, for apple fritters. So i'll eat donuts and watch movies all day in my jammies if i want, i'll scrapbook or shop or whatever all day-- i know, i know, those of you who know me well will say, "And how is that different than EVERY day for you?" And i'll answer,

"BECAUSE IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!!"

Casting the first bone.

It seemed like such a small thing.

As i was walking down the stairs, my left foot slipped. This left my right big toe hammering itself into the floor full force. i hopped around, muttering, and grabbed my toe firmly, and thought "boy that's gonna be sore." But broken, i didn't anticipate broken. My first broken bone and cast in 53 years.

The next morning, Easter, i awoke to my toe swollen and colored like an Easter egg in lovely purple stripes. So it seemed best to have it checked out at Kaiser urgent care before going to eldest daughter Candie's for lunch. i was thinking maybe i'd need a funny little shoe and some tape. Certainly not a cast, what with my favorite jeans on and all. But thank God for stretch denim, i wasn't forced to cut them off that night.

So, yes, it's a cast to the knee, for 4 weeks. Everything is a struggle, i must say. Walking up and down the stairs is an amazing feat of the feet--and since the shoe is slightly curved so it gives a rocking motion for the purpose of walking, it makes walking down the little hill of our front yard an adventure--will she be able to stop before she hits the step of the porch? And driving is out of the question, since my right foot is encased in a lovely blue cast (but it does match my blue purse nicely!) A decent shower is an impossibility, what with the large plastic bag and strict instructions to NOT GET THE CAST WET. i can't use the hot tub. Who would ever think i could tire of my computer or television? AND IT'S ONLY BEEN SIX DAYS!!

So, stuff i could do with fibromyalgia but not with a broken toe: decent shower, soak in the hot tub, do stairs, wear two shoes and get a pedicure.

Stuff i can do with a cast but not with fibromyalgia: get sympathy and have people do favors for me without complaining. ;-)

Okay, so it's been a while...

My faithful reader tells me "there's been nothing new for a while on your blog-" Well, there were the holidays, i say in explanation, and then there are the constant games of Spider solitaire i play obsessively, thinking i will begin to win Win WIN!! but i don't. Not often. Just often enough to keep me trying. ANYway, i'm writing now.

Christmas was fun, spent with the family at my oldest daughter's, with all of us pitching in to have a simple meal of appetizers and sandwiches--and of course pie. There must be pie in copious amounts. And the grandchildren are fun and funny, and keep us all amused.

i got to have early Christmas with the England contingent--now, they know how to do cold. And dark. i'm pretty used to street lights and such, but those quaint little villages in England don't have much of that and a person really can't see in front of their nose at night. And here i thought that was just a saying. We've had some extreme cold for these mild parts of California, below freezing nights and mornings. For us that's a novelty, for my little English grandsons it's just a part of winter time, having to wear 16 layers of clothing to go outside.

i'll try to get my rear back in gear to write more often here, (although the typing is better with my hands) just in case someone drops by.

It was funny to sign on to my blog and see the last thing i wrote was about the sleep apnea--it's been pretty much 2 months exactly using the cpap machine, and i think i'm finally getting used to sleeping with it, with the mask on my face. i figure i'm getting accustomed because i no longer wake up in the night and flail madly at whatever is covering my nose before i realize it's supposed to be there. The mask is my friend. Haven't seen a big difference yet in quality of sleep, but i think i must be starting to sleep a bit more deeply, as i'm waking up less in the night. So we will see. The jury is still out on that, as that saying goes.

Well, it's late (for me, anyway,) and time to put on the lovely mask and float off to dreamland.

i have good friends.

Not that i thought my friends were bad, but i've had some nice things happen lately.

First, there was that whole birthday thing in September. My sister and i have talked about how we both have some deep-seated dread of our birthdays. Nothing to do with the amount of years, though that carries its own trauma. So there i was, dreading my birthday the whole week previous, trying to put on a happy face, and then it all started flowing. i got to chat with a long distance friend, got to see my beautiful long distance grandkids on the webcam, got calls and cards from local friends and children, not to mention the perfect gift of a bag full of chocolate bars from my husband. And they weren't just any cards, and they weren't just any chocolates, they were special and thoughtful and funny cards, and lovely special chocolate bars. The kinds of things where you know the person really thought about you when they bought them. And on top of all that, i got to go to lunch and shopping with friends and daughters--TWICE!

But why just feel bad about my birthday? There is of course the whole fibromyalgia thing. Again, i try to not be a big crybaby about it. i do whine some. i do get grumpy a little. But it does tend to get me down from time to time, what with that whole crappy-sleep/constantly-achy-body thing.
And then there are always finances to worry about--why the heck our electric bill is as high as it is, why i am seemingly incapable at age 53 of making a simple budget and making it work. As somebody who believes in the God who made the universe (and me) i believe i'm to be a good manager of what resources He's given me. But can i ask Him for a raise in my allowance? That would be so much easier than trying to learn to live within my means!

And then there are my fears--the fears that keep me from doing things i would like to do. There's the fear of New, the fear of Failure, the fear of Large Bodies of Water. Recently daughter Corinne and i were discussing what we would do if we could have any job. She'd really like to know that about herself, since she's currently spending hours and hours finishing her college degree and considering going into a Master's program. i said i would love to write and publish--one thing i am passionate about is writing. i do some of my best thinking that way. Now, if we were talking about the fear of New Kinds of Chocolate, i'd be willing to try some total immersion therapy, but when it's the fear of something where i think others will be judging me? That gets pretty darn different.

So those are a few worries, a select few of the worthless crop i am currently fertilizing. But again, i am somebody who believes in the God who not only made me (and the universe!) but that He actually cares about my life. And that includes my birthday-dread, and my fibromyalgia-sleep-deprivation-crabbiness, and even my phobia about opening my electric bill.

So i've been conversing with God lately about the above-mentioned stuff--living within our means financially, dreams and passions i'm afraid to follow, pretty much all the stuff above except i'm not really ready to chat about the whole water thing just yet. And i've been trying to not only talk, but listen. You know, the kind of thing that makes a real relationship--the sharing, the not-one-sidedness. And i put a disclaimer here: if you are the sort of person who feels strongly that the creator of the universe (and you!) does not dilly-dally about having chats with 53 year old women about their fears and dreams like some cosmic slumber party, you should probably stop reading. Because lately i have been having a hard time hearing His voice, and i've been asking God if the stupid little crap of my life matters to Him. These are the ongoing inner conversations in my head as i go through my day doing laundry and such.

So i've been thinking about getting a new cell phone. i realize a cell phone is a frivolous thing, so how can i think about getting a new one if i have one that works? Well, this cell phone thing applies here because i have been saying to God, in the mode of trying to be responsible with the money we have, "i will not get one if it costs." You see, in our house, we are gadget fiends. We do love our cell phones and computers and cool tools. So a cell phone, here in the land of plenty, is not a big thing. Twelve year olds have cell phones here. i decided to be content until i found a freebie that i liked. And then my friend got a new cell phone. It glimmered in the light as i felt the gadget fiend within me rise up. But no--i've made a commitment. It must be free. i had been looking on our provider's site every week at what they might have. One similar to my friend's was, with rebates, $80. Not free. Now, again, here i know that to some, 80 bucks is two weeks groceries, and to others that's just the price of a good lunch. But, remembering my decision, no go. Not free.

But what's the harm in looking at the features and comparing reviews on Cnet and Amazon and such? This will fill my gadget cup for now. So i open Amazon to see if there are more details not on the Cingular site, and look up the phone.

It was there for $0.01. One cent. One penney. Huh. Cool.

A couple of days later i received my copy of "Simple Scrapbooks" magazine, and start flipping through the pages. i'm one of those people who tends to read all the pages, even the letters to the editor. So i perused the ads in the front, i started reading the letters from readers, and one sounded so very like me until i realized, it IS me--it's an email i sent them a couple of months ago. Not a piece of writing i sweat bullets over, but an email i just sent off one day because i like their magazine. My thoughts, my name, published right there on the page of a magazine. i laughed. Huh. Cool.

So, last night with my Bible study homies, i shared these two bits of news about the phone and the magazine. i asked them, "So, do you think God really answers stuff like that?" i mean, can God answer prayers through a cell phone? Am i just nuts to think He cares about the cell phones and the writing desires of my heart? If i had not been talking to Him about these very things for the last couple of weeks, i might have thought these were random acts in a random world. But no, i think they show God has a sense of humor.

So, here's where we get back to that concept of relationship with God. My most valuable friendships are ones that are reciprocal--not just me giving, not just them giving, but the give and take that creates closeness and trust between us. God, for all that parting-of-the-Red-Sea kind of action is still seeking to have a relationship with me. i know i've made the mistake of putting my parents' faces onto God. i know i've struggled long to separate what i saw as parenthood when a child from the truth of God's care as my Father. i read a verse yesterday in the book of John, chapter 14. It's verse 18, where Jesus is telling his disciples that even though he was leaving them soon he would ask God to send them the Holy Spirit to be with them and counsel them. He said, "No, I will not abandon you as orphans--I will come to you."

Abandonment. Speaking for myself, feeling abandoned like an orphan is an underlying fear of mine. Sometimes parents are too busy with their own problems to be involved with their children, and those children can end up feeling pretty alone even though the parents are physically present. Parents can be emotionally absent, physically absent, mentally absent--there are all sorts of abandonment. There can be the sort of abandonment that happens when parents don't like their grown children having a different opinion or belief or child-raising strategy from theirs. So first, in my life, there was that whole emotionally absent thing going on with my parents, and then Dean and i lost one parent after another until we found ourselves adult orphans in 2001. Abandonment. Not always intentional, but always painful.

But Jesus said He wouldn't abandon me, wouldn't leave me alone--He would send me the Holy Spirit to take his place.

My friends said, "It sounds like God is relating to you in a way that speaks to you--with a sense of humor." i like the thought that a relationship with me is important enough to the God who created the whole pickin' universe (and me!) that He would not abandon me. That's an active thing. A two way thing.

Oh, and the topper for good friends? i have one that actually says she thinks i'm organized. (Thanks, Adina!) But the subject of why that is worth putting out front in lights is another subject for another day.

The year of 53

i suppose this could also be called, "The Year of Looking For Signs." What is it that fascinates me about numbers lining up? i was born in 1953 (yup, there it is in writing!) and had my 53rd birthday this September--cool enough for me, right there! BUT THEN--i did some birthday ebay shopping the week before my birthday, and (add in some Twilight Zone music here--) saw that i now have--can you guess?--53 feedbacks! How cool and yet weird is that?

As if that combination of odd numbers and odd occurances wasn't enough, i already have odd numbers going for my birthday itself--the 9th day of the 9th month. So altogether, does this make me an odd person? Possibly. i mean, i am left-handed, too. But if those do not, there are many other things that probably serve to qualify me.

Feel free to not bring them up.