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. ;-)

Coveting my neighbor's bathroom.

Okay, so i don't covet my neighbor's wife, or husband for that matter, but her bathroom and kitchen? ah yes.

Adina has a new kitchen. It's all stylin'. Gray checkerboard backsplash and dark manufactured granite countertops. While i find my Formica-like countertops practical, they just look so practical. They're in that awkward stage of being old enough to be old but too new to be cool retro. Back in the day, 20 years ago, my kitchen was all shiny new too, and really i can't complain too much, it's all very functional. It's just 20 years old, slightly older than my youngest child.

But now, Adina's bathroom.....aaah....all glistening white and pure and new....from the ground up, new. New shower, new floor, new lighting, including a light in the shower. Granted, their old bathroom was functional, i mean, it had the usual necessary fixtures. But it was in need of some serious love. And now, in its newly reborn form, it is spa-like. (At least that's what the decorating shows would call it. i must admit to personal ignorance on the subject of spas.)

My bathroom, where i attempt to put on makeup and otherwise beautify myself, was new at one point. It was never spa-like, as that was not the preferred look of the 80's. i got rid of its big hair and legwarmers when i peeled off the wallpaper and repainted a few years ago, but that does not change the fact that there is no window and definitely no light in the shower.

So here i am confessing my bathroom covetousness. It especially overwhelms me in the shower, when i am shaving my legs by Braille.

Adrenal eating.

Another thought that's been cruising around in my brain:

When the chiropractor gave me the results of the cortisol test, list of supplements, and recommendations for lifestyle changes, one of those changes was to be sure to eat protein if i had something high carb.

My thought: i can do this. Milk with my chocolate cake, peanut M&M's instead of plain.

Now, for tomorrow, the 24 hour pee collection. When i went to the lab to pick up my jug, imagine my surprise and amusement at being handed a rather large orange jug. The gal explained the procedure then said, "Keep it in the refrigerator." To which i replied, "--and be sure to tell my son it isn't orange juice."

i do amuse myself.

i eat hope for breakfast.

Okay, so the title's a little odd. But it's been running around in my head for weeks now.

i think it means i'm sort of a hope junkie, and i need my fix daily. If i have a very NON- hopeful day, i'm in the dumps for a while. So when the chiropractor did a test that showed i have adrenal fatigue, but their solution was a couple hundred bucks a month in supplements, which i do NOT have, hope took a big swirly ride down the toilet.

i get in this mixed emotional hoopla over stuff like that--okay, i already feel sorry for myself over the fibromyalgia (yes i already know that's pointless, thank you) and the never-ending fatigue and soreness etc, but to throw on the adrenal thing and then taunt me with a solution out of my grasp? Well that's just rude. i told the chiropractor, "So, i can't work because i have this, so i don't have money enough to get over it...how does THAT work??"

Then, instead of being the lone ranger about it, i decide to ask friends' opinions--"how do i do this? Do i push them to let me buy only what i can afford, even though they said that was the absolute minimum of what i needed to take, or do i just try to go it on my own and figure out supplements i can afford elsewhere? And then how do i get follow-up, since if i do my own supplements i can't really ask the chiro to retest me, which is actually pretty pricey all on its own, but in California i can't request my own saliva test from the lab without a doctor of some sort's signature. And i'm already paying Kaiser for medical, so i wonder if there's a way THEY could just do the testing for me so i could just find my own supplements. And if i find my own supplements, can i do it without frying my liver or something?"

Okay, now that i just wrote that down, i can see why i didn't get many responses. Even i'm overwhelmed by that onslaught of words, and i love words.

So i started looking up more information about the supplements the chiropractic office had listed, and then reading other sites with adrenal fatigue information and suggestions for treatment, and started compiling my own list of the common denominator supplements. Good grief. i love the internet and all the happy hours of searching i can do there, but yikes... Information overload.

So now to compile the info. And sort the info. And cull wisdom from the info. Weirdly, i enjoy that whole process. Something about taking what seems overwhelming and finessing it into doable bits, that is pretty darn satisfying. And then i just have to watch my compulsion to keep rechecking stuff on the internet, because i will always find something that says the direct opposite of the conclusions i have reached, which of course throws me into the self-doubt mode--maybe the decision i've reached WILL cause my liver to become a briquet... Ah, the second-guessing of the over-thinker. It's a family gift.

So, armed with all this info, printed up and highlighted (yep, i'm still pretty dependent on the whole paper and pen thing) and the bits of advice from friends, i'm ready to move forward, and attempt to climb out from the pit i've fallen into.

The friend advice--one bit was to not let the chiropractor tell me i needed to do a bunch of stuff because then you end up with an expensive orthodic you probably didn't need (thank you, Frugalina. Well said.) Another was to email my doctor at Kaiser who we're already paying for, and start there. (My dear Adina. Strip all the excess emotion and words and start at the most basic step. If i am the chicken with my head cut off, what is she? Maybe the farmer's wife, saying, "Stop running around already. Tomorrow's Sunday, and you're dinner." And she's not being cruel, just practical. This is where you are, what's the next logical step?)

i emailed my doctor and explained the saliva test i had done to assess the free-cortisol in my system throughout the day, done at 4 intervals, and the results. (i didn't mention that i paid a stinking $179 to soak up my saliva with cotton rolls, which is wrong on so many levels.) Finally i got a call from my doctor--she said she hadn't heard of a saliva test for cortisol, but Kaiser did a 24 hour urine collection we could do. Guess i'll be staying home that day. And meanwhile i bit the bullet and purchased a few supplements, thanks to Costco, my local Health Unlimited, and ProHealth (http://www.prohealth.com/shop/) plus i also started charting my temperature per the Dr. Rind protocol (http://www.drrind.com/) to get an idea of the metabolic activity of my body. So far that temperature is all over the place, not unlike my mood.

i guess the gist of all that is, i'm pretty sure i'm looking for hope in all the wrong places (sing it! to the tune of, "Looking for love in all the wrong places") and so my hope "fixes" are inconsistent at best. i don't mean to say it's a bad thing to attempt to move forward and be proactive in my search for better health. That seems to be neccessary, me being my best human advocate. But i do tend to forget the other, bigger, more consistent advocate, the God who made me. i'm guessing He's really my best advocate, the One who loves me when i don't love myself, the One who made me and my saliva and presently tired adrenal glands. If i would just remember to go talk to Him first, i know that at least my mood would be more stable. He helps me keep the bigger picture when i have a tendency to lose myself in the little details of life, like the thought of saving up a day's worth of pee. ("If i could save pee in a bottle..." That's right, sung to the tune of Jim Croce's, "If I could save time...")

i'm still not sure whether or not i'll supplement myself into a hairy man chest. i'm hoping no.