The cancer interruption.

i've lost a couple of friends and assorted others to that big interrupter of life, Cancer. One was a long time friend who became my boss and helped me learn i was capable of doing many things i didn't think i could. The other was someone i'd known for years but not as closely, but God allowed me to spend a few days with just before she died.

Both had said the same words during their struggles with cancer: "I just want my life back." Somehow in my head, i heard those words, but as an outsider i thought, "but this is your life right now." To me, from the outside looking in, i knew the nausea and weakness were part of their "now," the part of life they were currently living. To them, the sickness and treatments that stole their strength and their hair were evil invaders come to take away what was rightfully theirs--their ability to care for their children, or do their jobs, or even go to the grocery store. So for them, the cancer was the interruption in their "real" lives.

i don't blame them at all for the way they felt. i have no idea what it feels like to have something attacking you from the inside, threatening to take away life as you know it.

For the one friend, even as she was in the hospital bed in her living room, bald-headed and too weak to get to the bathroom alone, when i would come in to visit she would say, "Tell me everything!" She had always greeted me like that when i returned to the office from vacation, or when she knew anything had happened in my life. She had a certain way to share photos when she returned from a trip. These customs were like little safe harbors in life--places you knew you could pull up to that would mean sharing and love, not just for her but for those she shared them with. It was about the relationship, the connecting.

For the other friend, the things we did in the few days we spent toward the end of her cancer interruption were the common errands that any mom and wife might do: take the vacuum cleaner to be fixed, go by the drugstore, pick up the kids from Vacation Bible School, go to the coffee shop. So with her, we did those things, but slowly and with an oxygen tank, each step taking great concentration and energy. And she was so happy in the doing.

Their "new" lives meant restrictions. They just wanted to be allowed to continue with the things that were important to them--for the one, that safe harbor connection with friends, the sharing of the details of life. For the other, being able to be a mom to her kids and a wife to her husband, even if that day it just meant buying them Band-aids at the drugstore.

The things that mattered to them in their "real" lives, the ones they wanted back, were the same things that mattered to them even in the life-changing interruption of cancer. The common thread running through what seemed to be two distinctly separate parts of their lives was that desire to connect with those they loved.

i'm not sure why they've been so much on my mind lately. i do know i've been feeling the limits my fibromyalgia puts on me. It's not a sickness-unto-death, i know, but on those days i find myself crying because i hurt so much i can barely move, well, i must admit to wishing for my old pain-free life.

But like my friends, the same stuff has continued to matter to me through all parts of my life (of which there have been several, having passed the half century mark.) i too love the relationships and the connecting, the sharing of photos, the tell-me-everything details of the lives of people i care about. i love the simplicity of a shared meal, conversation over coffee with a friend.

The things we value as people doesn't seem to change as our situations or bodies change.

Just something i've been pondering while in overthinking mode. Any thoughts?

Borrowing.

Excellent entry over on Magistramater's Xanga site about friendship. It's actually about the duties and sins of equals, but she uses it regarding friends. Some good thoughts.

The friend issue has always been an interesting one to me--i guess we all have different expectations when it comes to friends, but for me the best friendships have been the reciprocal ones. That, to me, speaks to the two sided give and take of a relationship where neither person is always giving and the other always taking. Strengths and weaknesses can be spoken of, we can help each other grow, that sort of thing. We can have coffee, do crafts, or just be silly and laugh. It doesn't always take a lot.

Everything i needed to learn about life, i learned from playing Snood.

Okay, well maybe not entirely--but i do love Snood! And while in my Happy Snood Place one day, it occurred to me, there are lessons to be learned...

For instance, the lesson of Do-Overs. If i try and fail, i can hit "R" and replay that same game until i get it right! But sometimes i'm just bashing my head against the wall, so, life lesson wise? Persistence is good. Trying again is good. Unless you realize what you're trying to do is pretty much a useless venture. Then cashing it in and trying something else is good. Or as Dr. Phil would say to someone's futile attempts at control etc: "And how's that workin' for ya?" That takes us to the lesson of Plan-B.

Plan-B says, my personal stubbornness is not always going to pay off--sometimes i need to learn when to walk away. That could be because i'm trying to change something that isn't really mine to change, or it could be because i'm being stubborn just to be right. Like being too stubborn to say "sorry." or maybe what i'm so stubbornly trying to do just isn't really part of my personal set of talents or skills. So maybe i should ReThink rather than Replay. Try a New Game rather than keep beating the old one to death.

There's also the law of consequences--in Snood, take a bad shot, stuff piles up, and then BAM. Game over. BUT--you can press "M" and call up a Mulligan. This will allow you to take as many shots over as you'd like in that game--but if you do win the game by using a Mulligan, you get a big Cheesy icon by your score, indicating your cheesily assisted win. This is akin to "Milli Vanilli's" musical talents, not quite a genuine "win." So, the life lesson of the consequences of our decision making--will my "success" be worth it if i take a shortcut? Okay, so maybe for a while i'll have the hot groupies and the tv appearances, but wait till they find out i'm only lip-syncing.

Well, i'd love to go on rambling about Snood, but i think i'm going to go play a few games now and see if i can get enough honest wins to get rid of that cheese icon by one of my scores.

My husband's new Samsung toy.

My hubby is up for an upgraded cell phone, and picked the Samsung Sync in red! We both love "cool tools" having an appreciation for the technology needed to make a user-friendly cell phone, table saw, or food processor. i mean, the more nicely made the tool, the easier it is to use.

Okay, so many (okay, most) of these goodies aren't neccessities--but nicely made tools do make our lives easier, not to mention more fun. It's supposed to arrive tomorrow, and we're both a little excited! Especially since with the upgrade online he got it for free.

Cool AND free--two of my favorites!

Spilling creative juices.

Melanie came over yesterday to play with my new cool tool, the Tag A Long. She already loves doing handmade cards, so introducing her to yet another way to decorate them, well, she was all a-quiver. (Is that a word??)

i had emailed Sizzix to ask them whether or not i could use the Cuttlebug dies in the Sizzix machine, and got the reply that, yes i could, but i might need to use a shim. (Not to be confused with a "shiv" though i expect you could use a shiv as a shim, if need be.) Cuttlebug has these cute 2 part dies that punch out a background shape and then the shape of a hand-drawn outline. They come in butterflies, hearts, flowers, etc. Being the good little consumer i am, i went to my local Michael's and bought the flower die set. So not only did Mel get to experience the Tag A Long for the first time, she got to share in the experience of the new 2 part flower die. It reminded us of 2 part rubber stamp sets by Stampin' Up! and Close To My Heart. ANYway, a good time was had by all!

At the top: Mel's 2 cards, which i love! and my first card. Below is the second one i did, which i ruined when i tried to use embossing powder on the petals. This is as close a look as i'm gonna let you get.

Come out and play!

Toward the end of a very long, very mentally/emotionally/physically achy day (yes, i'm pretty sure my emotions can be achy--) Cool Tool #3 came!! The Sizzix goodies!! i spent two hours trying every single bit of it out, each dollar die, each embosser, the sample papers. i still hurt, but i was distracted by the joy of creating.

What works for you? What takes your worries and aches away? Scrapbooking (creative) and knitting (creative) and reading help a lot. Often i like to organize something to keep my mind off of things--i once read that a person who is predominantly right brain (creative) can relax and de-stress their brain by doing something left brain (logical) and vice versa. i think that's where my enjoyment of organizing comes in, and my love of playing with Excel. i'm a predominantly creative person, things like math and organization not coming easily to me. Plus i'm left-handed, which is apparently also a right brain thing-- So, though it seems weird to me, both creating and organizing relax me.

Please share with me--i'm feeling lonely out here in blog-land!

Something Oliver forgot to tell me.

Okay, i should know this already--when you have fibromyalgia, just because you CAN do something doesn't mean you SHOULD do something.

This morning i am being reminded of the early days of this fibro thing, where i felt each and every sore muscle and bit of skin with a new awareness. i'm guessing that 40 minutes walking a dog was overkill for me, and i should "just do it/i don't have to love it" for shorter periods, maybe more frequently. Maybe my "point of no return" needs to be around minute 7.

It's painful on many levels--the bathroom scale says something needs to change, desperately, i was somewhat inspired by MyFitnessPal.com, and getting extra calories for the ones i burned, well that all sounded magical! But today i can feel the ache in each finger, up my arms, and in every place else in my back/shoulders/legs/feet/you name it. i even dreamed i was stuck cleaning vinyl chairs in rows in an auditorium, and i was so tired and so sore but i couldn't get people to help, they were just sitting there talking and ignoring me. When i hurt even in my dreams, there's another lesson to be learned.

If you're at all curious about fibromyalgia, ProHealth has a good website. They also have information on quite a few other medical conditions, and a store with quite a variety of supplements, so check it out.

Lessons learned from Oliver.

Oliver is my grandpuppy. We're watching him while daughter Cori is on vacation. He was a rescue doggy when she got him 4 years ago, and he still has some "issues." He's a bit skittish, he's a bit distrustful, but he is a small, fluffy delight nonetheless.

And he does love his walks! Corinne walks him regularly. They live in an apartment in a family neighborhood with tree lined streets and real sidewalks. We live in an unincorporated area, which translates to some concrete sidewalks, some dirt walks, some pebble covered walks. But Oliver doesn't care, he just loves his walks, whatever the surface.

He and i have gone for a couple of walks since he's been at our house--this morning was one of them. i pulled on some clothes and tennis shoes, did nothing to my hair (to be honest, at 6:30 a.m. i barely remember i have hair) and got out his leash. Our other dear left-behind dogs had a howling fit, but i was only taking Oliver. We were out the door around 7, a practically unheard of time for me. i don't really care for hours in the morning that start with 5's, 6's, or 7's. But i was awake, and it seemed like a good idea at the time.

As we headed down the street toward the corner market, delivery men were busy with their trucks and coffees and conversations. One of them cheerfully waved and said, "So, he got you up for an early walk, eh?" He was obviously One Of Those. You know the type--probably opens the blinds and talks when he gets up in the morning. A Morning Person. i have a daughter like that. It just isn't right.

i tore my gaze from his cup of coffee and managed something to the effect of, "Yeh, he does love his walks..." We rounded the corner, the sound of their extremely animated morning conversation still in the air.

This is the way i figure it--in order for me to walk for at least 30 minutes, i have to walk so that i am at a point of no return by 15 minutes. That way there's no wimping out, once i'm 15 minutes away from home, it has to take me another 15 to return. No shortcuts, no, excuses.

So, on my way home (which by the way ended up taking me a full 40 minutes total) a thought occurred to me. When i was giving Oliver a bath, he didn't do like my dogs do and try to climb out of the tub, he didn't shake the soap all over the room, he just took on a resigned look. An "I will endure" look. And just did it. He doesn't love his baths, but he doesn't fight them. He just does it because otherwise nobody wants to be near "his stinky self" as my daughter puts it.

i don't have to love morning. i don't have to love 30 minute walks whatever time of day. i don't need to be one of those people i've never understood who just have to get into the great outdoors and stretch their legs and admire the neighbors' roses. i just happen to be one of those people who loves my computer and my crafts and my books and all those other sedentary pastimes. But do i want my stinky self to live longer and breathe better and loosen up this sore body of mine, and possibly burn a calorie or two in the bargain. Then i don't have to love it, i just need to do it. Like Oliver.

Somehow that makes it seem more manageable to me, because if i wait to love it, it's never gonna happen.

OOH--Hey, if you're interested--

You can now add an RSS feed from this blog by selecting the link that says "subscribe to posts" at the bottom of my blog page, thus creating a handy-dandy little feature that keeps you informed of my blogs as they are added. You then merely need to select your Favorites Center on Internet Explorer, and pick the RSS feeds button there, and anything you have added to the feed will show up!

It's practically magic. This is how i finally scored a Nintendo Wii for my grandson by signing up for an RSS feed to a site that tracked any store that got them in. And i have a feed from the Amazon Gold Box deals, stuff like that. It's not as handy as simply receiving the new blogs in your email, as i get with my Xanga blogger friends, but it is, i must say, a very cute button.

Counting things.

My friend Frugalina is using a FREE online site for keeping track of what she eats and her exercise: "MyFitnessPal.com" and another friend was talking about "SparkPeople.com". So of course, being the masochist i am, i logged into both to compare my day's food and exercise. (i have thoughtfully logged out of both sites before adding the link, just in case it might take you to the unhappy place where i had to log in last night's ice cream. Chocolate peanut butter cup, mmmm....as in "mmmmany calories!!!!!!!")

Both have their strengths--My Fitness Pal is a bit more straight forward, easier to read for me. Less fussiness on the page. But Spark People has a better/easier food database. Both have ways to track most types of exercise and regular activity, and show you how that impacts your day's calories, since the additional activity earns you more calories.

In my perfect world, using my laptop computer for hours a day doing email, genealogy and blogging would earn me extra ice cream points, but alas, they expect you to get off your butt and move a little.

In the past i had used a free trial of a software called "Calorie King" that does pretty much the same thing, but for a price. Now, their food database was a thing of beauty--even more extensive. But it did cost something.

More differences between My Fitness Pal and Spark People: Spark People gives you the opportunity to track more than the basic nutritional bits like fat/carbs/protein. You can add a ton of different vitamins and such to track in your food choices (she said, carefully avoiding the word "diet.") Both give you many opportunities for Community support at their websites, but only My Fitness Pal gives you the banner at the top of the page with other weight loss sites amusingly titled things like "weightloss4idiots."

All in all, as Frugalina said, and like i've learned before in my 50+ years of battling the bulge (and losing TO the bulge,) "it makes me more aware." And that has to be a good thing.

i was just over at Magistramater's Xanga site--she's a friend of my good friend Melanie. She does put my reading to shame, as she actually knows classics.

i've always loved books--grew up with books lining the huge shelves in my parents' house, my mother being the driving force behind the collection. As a small child i played with the books, using them to build houses like an oversized deck of cards, and later i used the inside for school projects. There was another smaller bookshelf at the foot of the stairs, and of course we each had our stacks of books to read/already read in our bedrooms. i'm still pretty bad about that, i always have books and magazines and notepads and pens by the bed. No photos to be taken for "House Beautiful" here. i love winter cuddled under the covers reading a novel, or summer sprawled out on the covers with a breeze coming in the window next to me, reading. Therefore there must be a readily accessible supply, am i right? And what could be more convenient than directly next to the bed?

But i have to say, i'm an ordinary reader. The youngest of my daughters just graduated from San Francisco State with a major in Literature. She's found a passion for Big Books, Notable Books. i am apparently not that deep. i just like a book that's well written with a good story line and great character development, whether written by Tolkien or Dean Koontz. i'm an ordinary soul. i once read a couple of different series by Bodie Thoene (pronounced "tay-nee") that compelled me to keep reading and keep reading till i finished. They're historical fiction, and i've never been a huge history buff, but i loved these! They were history BUT with PEOPLE. Not just dates to memorize. As they say, "i'm a people person."

My mother's mother was a book lover too, but she ran more to romance novels (back in the day while they contained more romance and less, uh, "busy-ness.") She always bought books for birthdays, which i loved. My mother read all kinds of stuff, and i'm not sure she ever got rid of a single book, unless it was to pass it on to someone else to read. So, the love of books and reading was passed down through the generations, and that's a good thing to pass down! i spent summers as a kid walking the sidewalks between home and the local library, reading somewhere in the neighborhood of 30 books over those couple of months. i married a reader, and all 4 children are readers (well, Shawn will read more as her kids get into school!) Today's her birthday, by the way, so think i'll close this and give her a call.

What kinds of books do you like to read?

Average day.

It's noon, i've spilled the same cup of coffee twice, and eaten half a chocolate covered 2 week old donut. So, it's pretty much an average day.

A Cool Tool birthday!

i have to say, this was one fun birthday. i've been in the mood for "cool tools" for scrapbooking, after having done quite a lot of scrapbooking over the past 6 months. i'm a self-admitted Gadget Girl, having already said a fair amount about The Joy of Laundry, when we got our new Frigidaire front loader washer and dryer. But when Dean asked what i wanted for my birthday, and i answered my usual "i don't really know--" and my next usual, "how about money to shop?" (since i do love the shopping!) i figured that if i saw "it" i would know it.

So, after dear Dean took me to the Sushi House and to Beverly's craft store where i bought 2 strips of stickers, i took matters into my own hands. On that fateful day after my chronic pain management overview class, i went to the *Mega* huge Michael's, where the sound of angel choirs rang out as i walked through the door. It was there, as i wandered the aisles upon aisles of scrapbooking goodies that i saw "It." The Memory Makers Tag Maker. With this cool tool i would have the capability to coordinate my tags to my pages! Cool! Plus i had a 40% off coupon for any regular priced item--when that wad of mostly useless store ads comes in, i whip through it for my Michael's coupon-- Do i have something i need to buy at Michael's for which i should have that coupon? Not necessarily. But carrying it in my purse for the week it's valid, ahhh, what a sense of power!

One of the things i had looked for on my birthday shopping expeditions was a way to emboss paper and give it texture, thus giving me options for all my less expensive cardstocks. But the frustration was, designs could be embossed on an area of the paper, but i wanted an all-over background sort of texture on a full sheet. That didn't appear possible, at least not with my budget. My friend Melanie and i have discussed the pros and cons of die cut machines--mostly in the sense of "do you care about die cuts?" "Not really. Die cuts are sorta boring."

But me and my gadget lust, i had to at least look at them and read reviews and compare them. Starting at $50 for a Sizzix Sidekick (one of the manual crank type models) and working up to several hundred dollars for fully electronic ones, the price tag has been one of the hugest deterrents for me. Then when you add the cost of the dies themselves, with alphabets costing over a hundred on some systems, you're talking a sizable investment. And speaking of size, you have to have space to put all these tools and bits. My budget is small, but my space is smaller. And i wanted embossed patterns, not just cute little cut out letters and shapes. That didn't look like it was going to happen.

Did this stop me from perusing the cool tool websites? No way! And while cruising the Sizzix site, i found their most excellent "Online Specials" section! Many things for a dollar, and even the daintily sized Tag A Long machine for but a mere $11. Which came first, the Sidekick or the Tag A Long? i'm guessing they are the same thing, their dimensions and other specifications sound identical, the only difference appears to be the color and the name. But the Sidekick is 50 bucks, AND THE TAG A LONG IS $11! i am a *happy* Gadget Girl! i wander through the clearance, finding myself dies for a buck to enhance the Tag A Long, and even little embossing goodies for a buck! So, for just under $50, i end up with a tiny machine that will cut cute little letters and shapes and even emboss shapes into the paper, BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE! i also get somewhere in the neighborhood of 10 more dies and embossed shapes, plus the necessary accessories to use the 12 inch long dies, AND a 12 inch long die! For the usual price of just the machine and its included sample of dies i end up with the machine, accessories, and even more dies and embossers.

But did my Cool Tool birthday end there? NO! Another tool i have looked at but thought "i can't spend the money on that" was The Fastenater byEK Success, with its cute and decorative staples, meant to be both a way to attach things to your pages AND be cute! The cost on Amazon was about $24, and maybe it's just me, but no matter how cute the staples, that seems spendy for a stapler. It does have a long reach, making it possible to attach anywhere in a 12 inch page. That's a bonus. And the staples come in metallics, and pastels, and primaries, and with designs on them. But $24 for a stapler? i just didn't know. BUT--the search also showed a pink one for $13. So, again! A deal. That became my sister's present to me, since she already knows me well enough to send me spending money for my birthday, and just skip that whole question, "what do you think you'd like?"

So, i have the tag maker in my possession, and have found it simple and fun to use, and am anxiously awaiting the arrival of the Tag A Long from Sizzix, and the Fastenater from Amazon. i got deals on all of them, something that should make even my friend Frugalina proud.

Flying.

i love this picture. Do i have to have a reason?

When Adina sent it to me i thought, "this looks like something one could write a great inspirational something about." But apparently i am not in an inspired mood.

i often dream of flying--whether it is my subconscious working out issues, or simply the effect my dizziness has on my sleep, i fly. Where once many years ago i had trouble getting off the ground and staying off the ground, now i soar freely, occasionally taking someone else along for the ride. This photo reminds me of flying, being free from the gravity of life.

It's simply a photo of Adina jumping on a trampoline at her parents' home in Canada, and snapped by sister Melissa. But it speaks to me of freedom, of flying, of soaring above the circumstances of life. And it makes me happy to see it. So it's here.

Julie & The Week Of Many Colors

Wow. It's been quite a week, and today is only Thursday. First there was my birthday on Sunday, with the Sushi House in Alameda, and Beverly's craft store, and cheesecake at my oldest daughter's house with the crazy-funny grandchildren.

Then Monday i lost my cell phone. Feeling somewhat philosophical, since i've done this before and found it before, i got on with my life.

Tuesday i went to part 2 of Chronic Pain Management Clinic's overview class. We discussed drugs of many shapes and sizes and how they work, and i think some of us tucked away some ideas for "dang, that one sounds like fun!" We received our Letters of Recommendation from the Clinic staff for which group they think we should be in. Mine is the intensive one--5 weeks of 4 hours 4 days a week, and a family support group meeting on Friday afternoons for those 5 weeks to which we bring a family or friend support person. They've found, in the 27 years this clinic has been running, that people with support tend to retain the positive results of the program much longer. i had mixed feelings about being put in the intensive program--do they think i really need straightening out? Do they think i'm that messed up? Or did i just exaggerate on the many-paged questionaire? Or are they just trying to kill me and get me out of the Kaiser health system? One thing was for sure--where many people got appointments with their letter because the staff felt they needed more information, mine came appointment free, because, you know me, there were words to spare on my questionaire!

At this point, still no phone. But i'm not too worried. It will show up.

That day, Tuesday, was also my 31st anniversary, not to mention the anniversary of the whole 9-11 awfulness. But we were there first--we had staked our claim on 9-11 many years before. And a side note, i know 4 other couples with anniversaries on 9-11, how weird is that? If it were a date in June i might expect it, but September? We celebrated by Dean going to work and me going to the pain clinic class. i was pretty tired by the end of all that, (plus the shopping at the HUGE Michael's craft store in Union City where the clinic is) so we ate leftover pizza for dinner and stayed home! Ah, the wild things we are, 31 years into this relationship. We'll celebrate on a weekend, we decided. Not this coming one, however, because one of those couples who share the date is having a 25th wedding anniversary party on Sunday, my good friend Julia and her hubby Greg.

Still no phone--we've called my daughter, asked the grandkids, checked under the furniture in the house, and the seats of the cars. i've even cleared out some stacks of papers on the kitchen counter in hopes of finding it buried in their depths. But no.

Wednesday night my good friend Melanie comes over to help me play with stuff for our friend Julia's anniversary photo album. We both love all the crafty gadgets and goodies, and agree that shopping for the stickers/papers/inks/pens/stamps etc for the project is just as much fun as actually using them. Therefore, we both have a mighty fine assortment to choose from at any given moment. Plus she is good for my cooking confidence--i've never thought of myself as a particularly good cook. i mean, nobody has ever starved to death on my watch, but they aren't exactly lined up on the front steps for my recipes and meals, either. But she tells me i am a fine cook, and eats what i make without complaint, but then we tend to like the same stuff--pasta, comfort food creaminess, chocolate. Anyway, we had eaten and were playing with the table full of scrapbooking goodies when my youngest daughter called from the train in Spain (falls mainly on the plain? No wait--that's the rain--.)

"We have a situation," she said somewhat calmly for someone calling at great expense from their cell phone in a foreign country. "We had bedbugs in the sleeper car on the train," pausing to let me absorb that bit of information. "And they're in everything. Do you have any idea how to get rid of them?" Well, if she was calling me for support and help, i may have not made the best choice of responses, as i immediately got very icked out. EEEEWWWW!!! BUGS!!!!! Apparently she had been unable to sleep, and turned on the light, and saw the little bugs all over their stuff and they had bites on them as well. EEEEEEEWWWW shudder.... i'm itching now just thinking about it.

"Let me go jump on the computer and look bedbugs up on the internet," i say. And jump i did. Nasty little buggers they are, bloodsuckers with an attitude. i read her what i'm finding, and most of it is descriptions of the little lovelies--who needs that, she has the actual bugs to study--HOW do you get RID of them?? While we're looking at that, hubby Luis goes off to find someone in the train to tell--they're in Spain, he speaks Spanish, it seems right. But apparently there aren't a lot of people up in the middle of the night Spain train time. i read what i can find about how to kill the little buggers (i'll never again be quite as casual about saying "the little buggers") in between shuddering and saying "Oh i'm so sorry! That is so gross and disturbing!" She promises to let me know what they find out. It is so bad that Luis picks up his jacket and the bugs sprinkle out. This is NOT how sleeper trains are on movies. Often someone is knifed to death or poisoned or some such thing, but there are never bedbugs.

All evening my dear hubby asks me questions about my phone at intervals: do i rememember picking it up Sunday night? Where else could it possibly be? Twenty minutes of silence. Did you check your pockets?

Melanie calls it a night, i stack our supplies for further use on Saturday. Hubby has already headed up to bed--he gets up at a time that i could much more easily stay up till.

i do all the usual light-turning-off and door locking and go upstairs where i flip the light on in our closet to find my jammies. Something catches my eye--a smallish dark object laying in the floor of the closet--"i just found my phone!!!" i exclaim happily. Even from where he is already trying to sleep Dean is happy.

i take that moment to plug the phone in (it's quite thoroughly dead) and text a message to Corinne on the night train in Spain: "Nighty night, and don't let the you-know-whats bite."

And it's only Thursday.

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!!"

The (i'm in) Chronic Pain Management Clinic.

Well, i went to my first Pain Management overview class on Tuesday morning, with little idea of what to expect. As my new doctor had pointed out to me, fibromyalgia patients tend to have trouble trusting their medical staff, and are "suspicious." (She said suspiciously.) So i showed up by 10 a.m. with my notebook in hand, and a (hopefully) open mind. i'm an avid note taker--it helps the information gel in my brain. i hear it, i write it with my left hand, i see it. And maybe, just maybe, with it surfing my brainwaves in three forms, i remember it.

i must say, i was pleasantly surprised. The tone was positive and affirming. Someone in the medical world who acted like they believed we were actually in pain! As i first walked into the room i thought, "Crap--everybody here is way older than me!" and trust me, i am no longer in the youthful category. But then i saw a woman with long hair the color of mine, but i think hers was that color naturally, probably mid 30's. And a mid 20's girl walked in, and i thought "wow, she REALLY thinks we are ALL a lot older than her." And she would be right.

The doctor who heads up the clinic spoke to us first. He helped put the program together back in 1979 at the Union City Kaiser here in California. He gave a great overview of the pain process, complete with a handout with drawings (a lovely addition to my notes.) He spoke of the pain gate, and what opens it and what closes it. They will help us close the gate. They do not promise to make the pain go away, but they will work with us in many ways physically, mentally, medicinally to manage the pain. Now, i'd agree that most of us in the room would prefer to just not HAVE the pain, but apparently the good doctor can't actually promise that. But they promise to believe we are experiencing the pain, and that helps me right there.

As he, Dr Frank, explained, "We doctors love numbers! We love diabetes--there are numbers, there are tests. Cholesterol--we can measure that. But chronic pain, only you can help us understand your pain. And your doctor has agreed as part of this program to do whatever we recommend. So, as of today, I am in charge of your pain medication."

Personally, i tend to be a "tough it out" person with the whole pain medication thing. i fear narcotics, especially having had a parent with some strong addiction history with pills. But when i am in the most pain physically, which then seems to affect me mentally, i will give in and take something. Apparently that isn't the most effective way to do it, but my fear overrules my need. i then do less so i am in less pain, and end up in that "deconditioned" state, where i become too tired to move. Then i feel guilty because it has become All My Fault that i am in this shape.

We had a ten minute break after the first hour, so i went walking. That sitting in an upright chair for extended periods is interesting at best. It being a pain management clinic, they at least have decent chairs, and made it clear we can walk or stand or whatever works the best for us during the meetings. That's a good thing.

Second hour we had a physical therapist talk to us. He took us through a very telling exercise. First we brain stormed words for what the pain feels like (sharp, shooting, aching, etc) then words for what thoughts and feelings we have about the pain (anxious, hopeless, depressed, angry and so on.) The third list was words for how the pain affects our relationships (more anxiety, anger, frustration and such.) "The first list," he said, "is the facts associated with the pain. The second and third lists," he said gesturing their direction, "are the suffering involved with the pain. The pain is a fact, but the suffering is optional. And we can help you with that."

Damn--and we all wanted them to just make the pain go away. i suppose i should have gotten a clue from that word "chronic" that it ain't goin' nowhere.

People dynamics were fascinating to me, as always. There were a couple of men who wanted to use the class as a vehicle to hear themselves talk about how awful their pain is and how hard it all is. i understand it's hard. We are all, HELLO, in a chronic pain program. The facilitator was good to bring them back into focus. As we were each sharing ONE goal we hoped to achieve as a result of the program, those particular guys would try to again go off into how hard their life is and how awful their pain is and pick a goal such as "getting rid of the pain." The facilitator said, flat out, "Pick another goal." Was the manly man with his painly pain not listening?? Some pain does not go away.

It appears i will enjoy the program, especially watching the people, seeing who "gets" it and who refuses to. i bet a couple of manly men will not return. The clinic does not promise them a magic pill and magic solution, so why should they bother.

One woman there has had MS for years, and is frustrated with other people not getting it. Her goal, simply put, is to be able to cook herself meals. i said my goal has always been to NOT cook meals, but realistically i do understand how frustrating that would be to not be able to stand long enough to prepare yourself food. i'm just a smart mouth and can't seem to control that. As in when physical-therapist-guy was making the lists of feelings etc and asking "who in here has felt this way about their pain?" and i said, "All of these things really do seem to apply to me, and i would keep my hand up, but it hurts too much." He smiled. A little chronic pain humor, who doesn't need that?

We'll see what next week brings, but at the moment my Hope Meter is up a few points.

Learning to disengage, & grief.

Yesterday was quite a day. First, after finding out that my youngest daughter's travel plans were about to be decimated by United's unfriendly skies being too full for standby, she and her hubby and i spent several hours refiguring plans and looking up flights to buy online. By last night they had things pretty much rearranged. But the thing i practiced during this time was The Art of Disengagement.

As i was driving back home i realized, AHAH. What she and her father have in common, and i have in total opposite, is the way they deal with bumps in the road. i tend to be a "oh, we'll figure it out somehow" while secretly hoping i'm not lying. She and her father start with total annihilation: "The sky is falling! Everything is ruined!" and move toward "we'll figure it out somehow." The trick for me, anxiety-wise, is to realize we both actually want the same thing, we just take different roads to get there.

Regarding grief, that was the sad part of the day. A long time acquaintance just lost her husband suddenly, and the memorial was yesterday. It was a beautiful memorial, with all of their children and children-in-law and grandchildren sharing memories of his love and humor. But at the end of the service, as the wife was walking out on the arm of her son, i wondered, Can grief shrink a person? i mean, she has never been a big person in stature, but she has walked big. She is a very grounded and assured person, and has affected many people with her love of God, sharing hope and comfort, and being a person to walk alongside others in their hard times.

i remember a time back in college when i was thin enough to wear flowered pants without looking like a sofa, and being told by a much taller guy (i'm only 5 foot 4) that i "walked tall for a short girl." i guess that's what i'm thinking of, this woman has always walked tall. But when i saw her coming up the aisle of the chapel, headed to the next phase of saying goodbye to her husband of many years, she looked tiny and frail, and not a bit like the woman i ran into at the grocery store a few weeks ago. So her face haunted me all night when i'd close my eyes trying to sleep. And i'm really tired today.

Making laundry fun.

Now, i am not one to ordinarily sing the praises of my whitest whites and cleanest jeans, but OH, WE BOUGHT A NEW WASHER AND DRYER!! And laundry is fun again--not that i can dredge up a time that i was ever thrilled with it--

Due to our ongoing remodel, and the various tentacles of it that stretch into many parts of the house, the new water heater (the on-demand, hanging on the wall kind) "needed its space." Technically, it needed more room in front of it to satisfy the hunger of the county inspectors to make people change things to suit their rules and whims. So, since the laundry area and the water heater were sharing, we decided to get stacking front loaders for the laundry to give the water heater some room (if not privacy.)

Who would have thought it could be so thrilling to replace the washer and dryer? i must admit to having felt quite spoiled for years, since even in our first apartment as a married couple we had our own washer and dryer in our own attached garage. Oh sure, over the past nearly 31 years washers and dryers have come and gone--hand me downs, occasionally purchased, but always the same types. But THIS time....it's a brave new world!....stacking, front loading, water saving--the kind they've been using in England for years (the smartie pants.) PLUS, i have this all new and cool shelf system just to the right of the units, leaving plenty of breathing space between the shelves and the water heater. It's all very cool.

It's pretty sad, though--here we are, doing the 50's commercial-speak, admiring our bright whites, and being serious about it. Even Dynamo, our most curious dog, has sat in front of it a few times and watched the washer spin, wagging his tail.

For a few more weeks at least, laundry will be fun.

*WE* PASSED INSPECTION!

...Electrical, that is... and by "We" i mean "Dean"...

In the looong, slow process that is our house remodel, the electrical inspection was this week, and everything went just fine! Dean's been dreading it for a year, he says.

So now that means *we* (and by "we" i mean "Dean") can move on to other things that show, like siding, and sheetrock. And i can once again dream of walls where the window is the only place the sun shows through.

Using my goodies

For years i've collected scrapbooking goodies: papers, stickers, alphabets, tools. . . oh, and rubber stamps and inks and pens, and scissors that make cool edges. And paper punches in shapes. And glues and tapes. But for years i hadn't done anything with all the stuff except for collect it. Once upon a time, pretty much in the stone ages of scrapbooking when there were only pens and solid colored papers and maybe a punch or two, i started scrapbooking. Not unlike many things in my life, including a hand-stitched quilt i started for my oldest when she was 8 and finished (on the machine) for her 18th birthday, after an initial burst of energetic scrapbooking, my supplies sat idly in their containers.

i think in a way i was afraid to attack the scrapbooking of our millions of photos. When i started scrapbooking back in the day, it was a simple thing. When i started thinking i'd like to get started again, i took a walk through a local scrapbooking and rubber stamping store, California Stampin'. OH MY. Miles of stickers and papers and embellishments (a word i had not previously known) filled the aisles. More miles of pens and glitters and chalks and endless colored ink pads filled a few more aisles. Magazines and books on scrapbooking and card making filled an entire wall. Overload!

If only i did not like taking pictures so much--and if i had not had children who had then given me grandchildren, or gone on vacations, i would not have so many photos to organize. But i attacked the organization of said photos, cleared myself a space to work, and stared blankly. Organized photos, organized supplies, and no ideas for moving forward.

Between seeing the themed (non-chronological) albums of an Alabama cousin, and finding the magazine named (perfectly for me) Simple Scrapbooks, i began actually using some of my long-hoarded supplies!!! i was on fire!! i made a heritage album of old photos from my husband's side of the family, and then one titled "What I Did On My Summer Vacation" for last year's vacation photos (with room for more,) and an entire Hawaii album for our 30th anniversary trip. Now i've attacked my chronological family photos once again--i'm trying to make my way out of the 90's, having just finished 1997 yesterday evening with Scrubs as background noise.

So if you feel i have disappeared from sight, i've only gone as far as the 90's. i'll try to be back before the Y2K bug hits.

And on a lighter note...

Tired, grim winter couch and pillows (not to mention the patch of paint on the wall behind where i've tried out a color.)

Bright, cheerful SPRING couch and cushions.

Some people spring clean. This is my way of welcoming the sunlight and fresh air and lighter feel of the days...plus, i'm really not that big a fan of cleaning. It's like i used to say when my mother-in-law would try to tell me how much she enjoyed getting the bottom of a pan clean as new: "i have hobbies."

The spot of color is still on the wall behind. i haven't gone quite so crazy as to finish that. But a couple of bits of fabric and a mile or so of white thread and i'm happy to spend my cleaning time sewing.

A week (or two) in the life

Lately i've had some pretty interesting Bible passages come up. In what i'm sure some would term quite unspiritual fashion, i've taken a totally random approach to finding Bible verses to read. Kind of the ol' "flip and find" style of choosing.

Recently i've voiced concerns to friends, family, and to God Himself. "i'm so dang tired of feeling like crap," i said. "i keep complaining about the same old stuff," i said. So as i threw these words around, i decided to do a bit more journaling of what Bible reading i do. (i would love to say that i get up every day at the butt-crack of dawn and have a glorious time of Bible reading and prayer before running 5 miles. But even seeing that in writing on this page makes me laugh.)

i'm a bit random in my approach to many things--or, "creative" as i prefer to call myself. i have no real plan for housework--when the floor has more dog hair on it than the dogs, i clean it. When there are more pans in the sink than on the pot rack, i wash them. When company's coming, i dust. (And by "i" i mean frequently i make Jarel do it.) There is no "Thursday laundry day" at my house--when i have to start wearing my fancy underwear, i wash clothes. When we're down to carrots and oatmeal in the kitchen, i shop. i sew when the mood strikes me, i exercise even less. All that to say, i'm not the most focused person on the planet.

Why did i feel the need to tell you all that? i suppose so that you won't assume i'm not taking God lightly. i'm simply being consistently random.

So, after all my frustrated complaining, i decided to just pick a passage in the Bible and see what it had to say. The Bible study we friends had been doing (for quite some long time now) by somebody Blackaby called "Experiencing God" has talked about how our times of understanding God through His words in the Bible IS an experience with God. And who couldn't use a little one on one time with the Big Guy?

So i flipped my Bible open to where the attached satin ribbon bookmark was nestled. Isaiah 38, i suppose there because that's midway through the Bible. ANYway, it's a chapter that tells about King Hezekiah's illness. God had even told him he was going to die. For obvious reasons that news did not thrill the king, so he prayed and cried out to God, and God listened and added years to his life. King H even wrote a poem afterward about it--he said that the experience taught him humility, and being allowed to live gave him reason to praise God, as "only the living" could.

i'm not going to die from fibromyalgia, but some days i'm mighty cranky about it. So what experience did i have through those verses with the God who made me? Thoughts of hope, thoughts of purpose, and the realization that life allows me to continue learning.

Another day i picked up my Bible and began to thumb through--what did i think i want to read this time, old testament or new? Job 30 caught my attention. i loved this! Quoting straight from my New Living translation, "I am disgusted with my life. Let me complain freely." OH somebody's been looking inside my head! Disgusted with the constant exhaustion/pain/lack of enthusiasm for life. Job was saying that it didn't matter to God whether or not he was guilty or innocent, sinful or righteous, God was still choosing to punish him. Job was very honest before God--"You made me, why do you want to harm me? I am right before You."

That's the age old question--why does bad crap happen to good people? What did i hear in those words of Job? i can be honest before God. i can say how i feel, tell him i don't think it's very fair that i have this fat bump in my road. i'm a good person, right? i don't deserve this stupid pain. i can complain freely.

Another day, another random passage--and feeling particularly out of hope that day. New Testament this time: Hebrews 4:14-15. Jesus faced all our same temptations, so he understands our weaknesses. These verses talk about how we can have Jesus as our "high priest" (more on that later--) so we can go to him and ask for mercy and grace when we need it. This brought to my mind the question, what are my weaknesses and temptations? i'm easily tempted to lose hope, easily tempted to get stuck in the "now" of how lousy i feel. i start feeling like i will always feel exactly this way--too tired and awful to live. i lose the bigger picture, that there's more to me and my life than the way i feel at this exact moment of hopelessness. And i'm a big proponent of hope--i try to give others hope in their trials, but i'm having trouble finding any in mine. More time doesn't speak to healing, just to more physical and mental pain.

So what did i "hear" in those verses? Again, i can speak honestly to God my Father, this time with a dose of "he understands because he's been there."

The next time i read more in Hebrews, this time 5:1-10. This explained what a high priest was--someone who represents other people in their dealings with God. He understands them because he is one of them, having their same human weaknesses and temptations. But he must be called by God for the position, simply waking up one day and saying, "Hey, I think I want to be a high priest," doesn't do it. So, how does Jesus figure into that whole "high priest" bit? While he was walking around on earth like the rest of us, he was tempted, he prayed for deliverance from the pain of the death he faced. But he prayed to his Father to understand and make the choice that would be best. He processed to the point of obedience to a bigger picture.

i have a problem with obedience. The very word is hard for me to say. i suppose that comes from having grown up in a home where i pretty much obeyed to stay out of trouble. i didn't obey because i believed my parents had my best in mind and i trusted their judgment, like in some "Leave it to Beaver" world. i obeyed because the alternative was not too pleasant, and i prefer pleasant. So, as a child i didn't gladly obey out of a trust relationship, and i still have trouble with the concept. i'm clear on this. So i'm working on trusting God. i've got the whining/ begging/ pleading thing down.

Next random verse: Colossians 2: 6-10. Verses 6 and 7 say, "Continue to live in obedience to him. Let your roots grow down into him and draw up nourishment from him, so you will grow in faith, strong and vigorous in the truth you were taught. Let your lives overflow with thanksgiving for all he has done." Hello. Obedience again. What's up with that?

How do i let my life overflow with thanksgiving? It's like all those stinking thank you notes my mother made me write as a kid (i know, i'm a better person for it--) once i would stop to remember what i had received i'd be happy all over again for it. So, remember. Make a list. What has my Father done for me?

-helped me survive my childhood by being there for me

-found me family in my husband and his little girl

-showed me His willingness to walk with me in tough times

-showed me His comfort in pain

-even now, helping me learn to trust him as i could not trust my birth parents

-taught me the value of truth in life and relationships

-given me the desire to encourage and love others.

That's just some of it.

Most recent random verses: Romans 8:9-25. This passage tells me that i'm under no obligation to do what my human nature wants me to do--that's a different spin on the idea of my less-than-optimum life/health choices: "under no obligation" to them. When i think of my human nature, my brain goes automatically toward my weaknesses, such as my passion for all things creamy, fatty, and chocolate, or my lack of passion for exercise. But i owe those things no loyalty. Different spin.

We also"groan to be released from pain and suffering." God gave us his Holy Spirit to give us a taste of "future glory"--is that maybe when we're done with life on earth with its brokenness and decay? So i get the groaning, i get the brokenness, i just tend to forget there's a future.

So, i must ask you, how "random" were all of these verses i read? i mean, take a look: King H was gonna die. He prayed, he lived, he learned from it. Job, a righteous man, a good guy, being honest with God--"I'm disgusted with my life." Followed by Jesus as our high priest, one who understands our weaknesses, someone who has struggled to see the bigger picture and questioned God the Father, something i understand. Top that with a walk through staying rooted in him by being obedient, seasoned with a dash of communal groaning for release from the stuff that steals our hope.

All of that seems to have a theme--maybe there is no "random" with God--yes, there is pain, there is suffering. Friends get cancer, we get sick. Brokenness happens. But where is my hope to be found? i know the Sunday School answer is "Jesus!" But i need a bit more detail than that, a bit more direction. So, how about hope found in the details of that list i made of ways God has shown His love for me, prompted by those verses in Colossians. How about in all the verses that said, "You have lots of company in the struggle to make sense of your pain." Where can i find comfort? Probably in those "random" verses in Hebrews telling me that Jesus understands pain and temptation because he's been there.

i've spent three days writing this--really, i'm gonna stop now! But it's been an interesting creatively random wander. . .

Not happy.

Today was a big day for me--i was going to meet my new doctor. Of course hope ran high--maybe this one will actually listen to me! Maybe she'll nod sympathetically and at least appear to believe me.

But no.

This was not to be. First, "Why did you leave Dr. ***?" she asked. How do i explain this without making myself sound the ungrateful b*****? So i tried to explain some of my frustrations with having to push so hard for any testing etc, i tried to appeal to her years of study by saying i would like to benefit more from their knowledge in helping me feel better. She explained to me that the frustration fibromyalgia patients feel in getting help often leads to their distrust of medical providers.

From her expression i thought, Uh oh, i bet my old doctor and my new doctor are buddies.

She explained to me that there was not a lot of point to many tests as they were not necessarily the answer, "And I'm not one of those who uses a lot of cortisol and such, and your tests came out normal for that anyway." So i explained having had the test at the chiropractor's, and that i did come out low on that. So SHE explained how "too many cooks in the kitchen" just make for confusion. (Possibly i should tell her the actual saying is "too many cooks spoil the broth," if she's planning to rely on trite, over-worn phrases to "dumb down" her doctor speak for her patients.)

i sat there quietly, attempting to keep a placid smile on my face while she explained that "therapy could also help," the approach to fibromyalgia being a multi-something-or-other process. She did at least use different phrasing from my previous doctor, who told me that "sometimes when you get the issues of depression dealt with, other things can get better, too." Instead, this one told me that "behavioral therapy can help with the fibromyalgia." OH RIGHT! i FORGOT i can simply BEHAVE MYSELF BETTER! Guess those 5 years of therapy i already had didn't teach me to "think" away the pain.

She did at least sign me up for the pain clinic, so they'll be calling me, she says. That could be helpful. She looked a bit exasperated when she said "I like to treat fibromyalgia with nortriptyline at night--" and i immediately said, "i can't use that. Gives me a rapid heartbeat." "Or amitriptyline--" "Nope, that one did the same thing."

Right. Be exasperated with the fact that i just shot down your plan. Think how exasperated i am with the stuff not working!!

She sent me home with a prescription for the IBS, and a requisition for some bloodwork.

i muttered stand-ins for bad words all the way home.

Think i'll be looking yet again for a new doctor.

Able to leap tall footstools...

i'm so proud--i just looked at my son's "My Space" and found that he has listed "my mom and dad" under "Heroes."

...That's, um, right after he listed Superman ("he's the best hands down!") Spiderman and the Punisher. Oh, and Wolverine, Ironman, Elecktra, and a couple more i'm not familiar with.... and then there comes Michael Jordan and the Terminator--

But we did make it ahead of Ghost Rider. Now THAT'S a relief...

My life as an oyster.

i went searching for images of oysters after saying to friend Adina yesterday that i felt like just closing up on myself like an oyster. The images i found served to ensure that i will never eat an oyster, and i now know more about oysters than i ever wanted. Anyway, the reason "oyster" came to mind was that when i feel especially fibromyalgia achy and just worn to the core, i just want to close up inside my little shell and stay warm and not move. She said, "And when I open back up, I may have a pearl," to which i responded, "Or not--" So, after a few days of oyster-wishes, i am open again. Sorry, no pearl, simply these thoughts:

Things i love:
affectionate contact--hugging grandkids, my kids, friends, my puppies, and of course my husband.
encouraging
laughing
movies like "The Wedding Singer" with laugh-out-loud bits
reading
creating
chocolate

That's maybe the worst part of When Fibromyalgia Strikes--i feel unable to enjoy those things (i can usually make an exception for chocolate.) It's like there are two distinct Fibro Me's--one where i hurt to the very tips of my fingers, but i'm still able to create and enjoy and shove the pain to somewhere off-center, and the second me where i feel achy and dull and want to just close up my shell and wait for tomorrow.

What i can do with this information, i am not sure. Maybe at this point it's enough to just know it.

"Six Days, Five Nights," Maui.

We got this great vacation package offer from the Sheraton Maui, waaay back last summer. Perfect celebration of our 30 years of marriage! Trouble was, their dates filled up so quickly that the first available time was this April. Then i broke my toe, got the cast, etc etc. So we rescheduled to May 10th, three days after the cast came off of my AWEsomely hairy leg. So here is the accounting of random thoughts on the too short vacation, kept in my tiny purse size notebook:

Thursday, 10th May, 2007. We hoped for first class, (as we airline employees and spouses do) and got cattle class. Oh well, we're still on our way to Maui! i sat with a couple from Cape Cod who were celebrating a friend's 50th birthday along with three other couples. Great conversation, friendly people. Dean sat with a guy who never said a single word for the entire 5 hour flight.

Arrived at the Sheraton Maui feeling out of place--valet parking? We're more accustomed to the kind of accomodations with the loud ice machine in the hall outside our door. Everybody smiles and says "Aloha" when they see you--

Nice lunch at the Something-or-Other-Terrace in the hotel--easygoing wait staff. Made me think about restaurants at home, people taking themselves so seriously-- The hotel restaurants are sort of boundary-less, and you can approach from all sides--people wander in from the beach with towels wrapped around them, somebody greets them with "Aloha" and a relaxed smile and asks to help them. At home things seem so much more prescribed and edged. We watched birds landing on neighboring tables to steal leftover fries waiting to be cleared, nobody chases them away--we fed them crumbs from our rolls. Tiny birds argued with medium size birds, and everybody seemed to get something.

Nice room, pretty private lanai facing onto a grassy yard bordered by flowers--upgrading to an ocean view room was going to double the cost of the whole trip, so "garden view" it is!

Friday the 11th--i felt sexy for five minutes on Friday--i put on my gauzy black skirt and a tank top, and was standing with one foot up on the edge of the counter, shaving my leg. i glanced over and caught a view of myself in the mirrored closet door, and thought, "Hmm...not bad..."

Dean went for a brisk walk so i bought myself a vanilla latte and some canteloupe and blueberries at the hotel's coffee cart. i sat alone at one of those high tables in my gauzy skirt and concentrated on looking mysterious...

We drove a ways up the coast from Kanapaali, where the Sheraton is, stopping alongside the road every now and again to look at the amazing ocean view spread out far below us--at one stop we walked to the water through rainforest looking trees, all densely topped and dripping with vines, the ground covered with a deep floor of a vining plant--beautiful! And all this with my adorable sock and "post-op" black shoe covered right foot.

8pm and we're sitting at the Lagoon Bar out by the beach, listening to a guitar playing guy singing pop songs--currently "Margaritaville" AND they have Orna-Glow type candles on the tables! For those of you unfamiliar with the Orna-Glow concept, one Christmas my friend Julia gave each of us in Bible study group an Orna-Glow tree ornament. It glows, phasing through different colors. An instant hit, we have spent the ensuing years delighting over every other Orna-Glow sort of find--Melanie thrilling us all with her (snowman?) addition to the Orna-Glow family last Christmas. And where are the Orna-Glow coasters Sabrina used for a time? ANYway, wish i could buy these candles from the bar!

The singer is having creative fun with the words to the songs--in Margaritaville, instead of "Don't know the reason/Stayed here all season/With nothing to show but this brand new tattoo./But it's a real beauty/A Mexican cutie/ how it got here I haven't a clue." he's singing, "don't know the reason/stayed here all season/with nothing to show but this brand new sunburn/but it's a real beauty/back there on my bootie/how it got there i haven't a clue."

There are all shapes and sizes of couple out--several spontaneously swaying and dancing together to the songs, out along the beach and edges of the bar--

Saturday the 12th--We bought coffees at the cart again, sat in this lovely seating area on a veranda-like part of the building talking. We rented a blue topped cabana on the beach (40 bucks!!) and lounged about and napped and read till just before dinner, cleaned up and ate at the Lagoon Bar and watched the Cliff Dive ceremony at dusk--very relaxing. Chatted with a woman from Minnesota and her visiting friend from Germany.

While in the cabana a cute little young couple was passing--she saw me and stopped and said "Oh! Would you mind taking a picture for us?" i said, "Sure! If i looked like you two i'd be having everyone ON this beach taking my picture--" They had a sweetly happy and unassuming air about them, and those firm young bodies that come naturally only to the 20 year olds--She had a head full of long dark curly hair and a tiny tropical print bikini, and he leaned over and kissed her and gave her a quick squeeze as they posed--So cute. Dean has taken a couple of photos for couples on the trip too--it makes people so happy.

Sunday the 13th, Mother's Day-- We got coffee at the cart again and skipped the 50 bucks a head Mother's Day brunch at the Terrace restaurant--took a really nice drive down the coast this time, ending at a lava field place with a gorgeous bay with black and white rock beach--

Back up to Lahaina where we had lunch at the Cool Cat Cafe (seriously.) and walked through an art fair outside the old courthouse under the famous banyan trees--i bought a print of a woman's watercolor painting of the old courthouse--her name was Marjorie. My mother's name. On Mother's Day. Crazy, eh? There were a number of older bohemian type women there selling their art, gaunt, gray, in flowing clothes--and some rather ordinary men and women who just looked like people you'd see at Back To School Night--

i ate a mango that was off of somebody's tree! How cool, mango trees in your yard--i know we are blessed to have citrus trees in California, but mango sounds so, well, tropical. i suppose because it is.

Monday the 14th-- We're driving along the coast highway on our way to the Island Paperie, "the only scrapbooking store on the island!" It's in Kahului, not far from the airport. When i told Dean i wanted to go there he groaned, but being a good sport he'll take me anyway.

Chain link is draped over the lava rock walls along the highway like a fine net skirt--

Continuing our drive after the Island Paperie (very well stocked, i must say, with many many beautiful and special Hawaii papers) we drove up into the neighborhoods and up the mountain to the Iao Valley--we ate lunch at a funky little nature area behind a gift shop, a pretty good crab and avocado sandwich for a place operating out of a kitchen with walk up service at a screened window, and a patio of battered and weather worn outdoor furniture.

We watched a couple of local guys jumping off the bridge at the Iao Valley walk into the 6 1/2 foot deep, narrow river 30 feet below, for tips--like a street musician. i thanked them for being crazy, it was fun watching! And way better them than me--

We drove around looking at the local houses, both new and really old, many with wide eaves serving i suppose as a way to shade the houses from the tropical heat, some wide enough to cover shady porches. We saw quail, 2 adults flanking a bunch of tiny babies, walking purposefully up a street and into a yard--so cool!!

Tuesday the 15th, and sadly, the sixth day and time to go home--We've had some great talks, great drives, read and basically just RELAXED. Time to return the car and to reality, hopefully somewhat restored. We spent last night chasing the sunset around the hotel--the Sheraton is spread over quite a large area, with a number of buildings. We wandered through all the areas searching for the best place to get photos as the sun went down. The colors change so as the sun goes down, its own tropical Orna-Glow...

Dream a little dream of who?

Lately i've been looking up dream meanings again. The good thing is, this means i must be sleeping deeply enough to dream. The bad thing is, last night i dreamed about Britney Spears.

Why Britney? i looked up dream meanings on the Dream Moods website. They gave me a number of options to consider regarding celebrities: dreaming a celebrity is a friend, dreaming a good friend turns into a celebrity, being carried off by a celebrity--i'm not so sure my dream needs all that much interpretation, since it involved a looong downhill conveyor belt/slide on which she was traveling with a lot of people, myself included, only she was doing a really poor job of watching her toddlers and just kept wandering off away from them. Oh, and Phil Stacy, the bald-headed contestant on American Idol? He was the father, and kept rescuing them from getting hurt. So, Britney Spears, not a great mom, slippery-slide downhill--you take a stab.

i should probably be concerned myself, though--i was also on the downhill slide. i've felt like that lately, certainly. A year ago i was on the great path of discovery that was the Cave Man Diet/Rare foods diet, had newly increased thyroid medication and had lost some weight and felt somewhat IN control for a change. Now, i do realize that "control is but an illusion"--but of late i feel especially OUT of control of many things.

Food just goes right along with that, always has. Oh sure, i eat my veggies, i eat my fruit--i *try* not to eat so many carbs and sugars. But if ice cream is in the house? Well, it becomes a loving companion to that nighttime cup of decaf coffee and visits often. Or cake? Or any kind of sweets for that matter?? Or creamy gravies?? THEY LOVE ME! THEY CALL ME! Ah, the slippery slope that is Comfort Food.

And exercise, or rather, the lack thereof--i have this excuse of a cast on my leg that keeps me from my elliptical machine. But before the cast? How many times had i been on it in the month previous? HMMM??

i keep thinking that i need to take back control--that thing which is but illusion-- But my achy body is not an illusion, the fatigue that debilitates is not an illusion. i keep waiting for something to give, my vitamins and supplements to kick in and kick butt. It's not happening. i wake up day after day after day feeling like i've been trampled by a pissed-off mule. i shove my way through the long morning hours, finally hitting a more productive afternoon. i make dinner, cleaning up as i go, and i'm pretty well done being useful for the day. i take my assortment of pills and go to sleep, hoping to wake the next day with the tiniest bit more energy, but instead i dream of going downhill with Britney Spears, and wake feeling jet lagged.

Life Lessons.

Life's just full of little lessons--for instance, the TLC Channel "Life Lessons" figurine that reminds us that children learn from us, and will repeat every single thing you say--usually at the most inappropriate moment.

Here's another: do you know somebody who has to one-up your pain? You know, when you just want to have a good gripe but they keep telling you what they have that's worse? Yep, fine, you want to tell them, You win in the 'Sucks to be you' contest of life, but dang it, i still need some air time!

You know that internal dialogue, the one where you're really hoping it's "that still small voice" generally associated with God, and not just *you * upping the Crazy Quotient of the family tree? Well, like i said as i closed an earlier gripe-post, there's stuff i can do with fibromyalgia but not with a cast, and vice-versa. It's the first category i'm honing in on here.

It's like the Still Small Voice is saying, "well, look--you used to be able to do that with fibromyalgia--oh, and that--" (Here the Still Small Voice gets the tiniest bit cheerfully sarcastic, which is part of why i worry that possibly, just possibly, it's really that family tree business i mentioned earlier rather than God--) "Hmmm....So, do you think that maybe there are things that are more limiting than fibromyalgia? And that you should be thinking of what you can do with the fibro rather than what you can't?" Yeh, whatever.

So, life's little interruptions may not always be the End All they seem at the time, as much as i hate to admit that. It's so satisfying to have the occasional whinge, and i've always been one to tell someone "Your pain is your pain" and isn't less simply because someone else has it worse. But how can i have a really good whinge about the fibro with that cheerful Still Small Voice in my head pointing out that it could be worse? i mean, it's not as if i can't drive and get out of the house or something--Oh wait, 2 more weeks in this cast. Dang.

Life's Interruptions/Life's Lessons. They seem to have a connection. i hate when that happens.

Please tell me at least i'm burning more calories...

i just showered. Did the whole routine--shoe on the cast, wrap a towel around the cast, giant black garbage bag over the whole thing. As soon as i stepped into the water, i felt it running down inside the bag. Plan B, balance aforementioned casted/shoe-ed/toweled/bagged foot on the edge of the tub, precariously. By the time i'd washed and conditioned my hair, scrubbed my body, and scraped the stubble from underarms and one leg with a dull razor, i was exhausted. Huffing and puffing like i was three times my already generous size... Ready to move on with the day? i don't THINK so--more like "ready for a nap."

So, please tell me i'm at least burning more calories than usual...

Dormancy.

You Are An ISFP

The Artist You are a gifted artist or musician (though your talents may be dormant right now).You enjoy spending your free time in nature, and you are good with animals and children.Simply put, you enjoy beauty in all its forms and live for the simple pleasures in life.Gentle, sensitive, and compassionate - you are good at recognizing people's unspoken needs. You would make a good veterinarian, pediatrician, or composer.

What's" Your Personality Type?

i just did this short version of the Myers Briggs personality test--interesting and quick. i guess a person can change types over time--perhaps as a result of simply growing up, or maybe years of therapy (also aiding in growing up.) i don't think this is what i tested as before. i do always end up in the creative block of the test, but this is the first time i've heard my talent might be dormant. i feel like I'M dormant in the past years--but dormant is at least a kinder word than "stagnant" which also leaps to mind...

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. ;-)