The nap.

Darrell and Thomas often take naps.

I'm not a napper, though I'd like to be. My husband can nap. I really envy him the ability to not only identify when he is in need of a few extra winks, but that he can actually lay down and fall asleep in the middle of a Sunday afternoon.
Last Sunday he did just that - so I decided to get outside and rake the back yard. I finished up and felt tired so I thought I would join hubby in a nap.  Of course, I am not allowed to lay down any time unless that cat is allowed to join me. So there I was, Thomas curled up next to me and Darrell's sleepy, steady breath softly blowing my hair across my forehead. I started to be distracted by all the reasons why I couldn't or shouldn't take a nap; the laundry I could be doing, the dinner I still needed to fix, the letters I should write, and the fact that I simply was not comfortable.
Needless to say I didn't fall asleep ~ but I did make sure to savor the moment ~ to appreciate my husband's breathing and my cat's purring and how lucky I am to have them both!

Whistling in the Dark - book review

Goodreads is suggesting I copy my book reviews into my blog, so, here goes!

I loved this book and read it again a second time in anticipation of the sequel, Good Graces, which was released in September. I love the voices in all of Lesley Kagen's books and especially that of Sally O'Malley in Whistling in the Dark. Sally has qualities I have always admired - common sense and attention to detail! These are qualities I identify with. Even though I wasn't yet born in 1959 when the story takes place, and even though I am decades older now than Sally is in the story - there is still something in her voice that is so familiar it could be my own. This is proof that no matter how old we get, the voice we have inside ourselves is that of the children we once were. The O'Malley sisters have grown up troubles to deal with. The adults in their lives cannot or will not be present for them, but Sally and Troo still manage to keep their innocence and enjoy the same summer activities as the other children in the neighborhood. This book will evoke your childhood memories, and as your own child voice echoes through your mind remember to savor each and every page of this book. You will miss it when you're done.

Blowing in the wind.

The big red house had a porch that ran all the way across the front. My mom hung wind chimes along the entire length of it. I like telling all the little "greats" about the wind chimes - since their grandmothers (my sisters) both have an affection for wind chimes as well.
Right now I can hear the wooden chimes that I rescued from my mom's shed - they are hanging in my back yard. I try to re-create a lot of the things my mom did, unfortunately my results are not usually as successful as I'd like. It doesn't matter though, because what matters is the memories and the feelings they conjure up for me. I can remember the sound of all of mom's chimes echoing through the open windows on the quiet evenings when I was growing up, and later when I would visit with my own children. I am so glad my kids got to play on that front porch because there is no way I could ever have explained how perfect it was. It is just one of those things you have to experience for yourself.
Last time I was in Wilbur I drove past the red house and was disappointed to see that all the shrubs surrounding the porch have been chopped down. I doubt if there are wind chimes either. It is like the house has an entirely different personality.  Maybe it is true that the people make the house - without us it is just not as perfect.
Poor old house.

Something old.

I was searching through some old papers yesterday and ran across a little piece I wrote in about 2003. I didn't like the idea of it just lying around - not a part of anything, so, here it is:

Isn't it funny, the things that spark memories? I am sitting in my yard in a little plastic lawn chair, mindlessly watching the sprinkler. The water is collecting in a pool in the corner of the patio. There is that familiar smell when the water hits the hot cement.

It reminds me of inflatable swimming pools from years past, my children splashing and laughing. I remember the hose we used to fill the pool with was full of holes. I liked to think of the old hose as a special system for watering many parts of the lawn all at once. This cement pad conjures up memories of roly polys that held the fascination of my kids as they would try to pick them up without smashing them. The kids are grown up now and I live alone.
I don't have to cook dinner. No one is waiting for me to leave this chair. I can do all the reminiscing I want, with no interruptions. My only companion at this moment  is my telephone, which I keep beside me, waiting for one of my kids to call.
My daughter's one year wedding anniversary is just around the corner. My son is in Iraq with his Marine unit. I have done my job and sent them out into the world to do theirs. So, I will be content for now with phone calls and precious memories. I will enjoy this idle time, watching the water, falling like raindrops, while the ants struggle to escape. Maybe the grass will get greener too!

They grew up on this crooked, cracked cement, jumping like frogs and lighting their fireworks - when that was still legal. My children have grown into beautiful, intelligent adults, much like the maple tree that was a mere twig eighteen years ago and is now reaching to the clouds, adorned by a single yellow ribbon. The memories of them are what makes me love this place. My house is on a rented lot, but I own the memories; I will keep them inside and let the sounds and smells of the changing seasons pull them out at wonderful, unexpected moments like this.
I thought this was going to be another lonely evening, but somehow it's turned into one of the better ones I've had recently.
It is comforting sitting here where they played - and where someday soon - they will come again, to reunite.
That day I will cook.

Silly things....

We all do them - those silly things. When we do them it can sometimes be frustrating or even embarrassing, but they are usually the stories we like to tell over and over. They are good for a laugh. I've told mine often... but I don't think I've ever written them down. Of course we have all mixed up our words a time or two. I remember once, when I was about 10 years old, telling my mom that one of my friends had been to a store in Spokane and "boy, their hices are prigh!" That isn't really very funny but it is just something I have always remembered.
I also remember an embarrassing situation during my senior year of high school. I pulled into the parking lot and remembered it was St. Patrick's Day. I realized I had forgotten to wear green and didn't want to risk the pinching so I was digging through my glove box for something green to hook on my shirt. I think I found a Doublemint gum wrapper and decided that would work. I jumped out of my car and locked the door. I was waiting around in the common area before school when one of my classmates said "hey, did you mean to leave your car running?" I said "why, yes, I did."
I ran out to the parking lot just as my friend Colleen was pulling in. She kindly gave me a ride down the hill to my house where I grabbed a spare key to my car. I thought I'd gotten away with it until my Senior Banquet where it was the one story they told about me.
Another story took place when I was attending community college in Spokane. I was heading home to Wilbur for Christmas break and had made several trips to my car with luggage and packages - all the while letting it run so it would be warm. After the hour long drive home I stopped the car in the driveway and when I went to turn it off I saw there were no keys in the ignition. (some of you will remember when you could take the keys out while the car was running) Again, I went into the house to get the spare and when I came back out I saw my own key chain hanging from the door lock - totally covered with ice and gravel. I am a little more careful with my keys these days - but I can't say that those incidents cured me of key stupidity.
I've done a lot of silly things. Once I got home from the bank and realized I had brought the pneumatic cylinder home with me. I called the bank to tell them, but of course they already knew.....
Several silly things have taken place when I was in a hurry to get to work. One morning I groggily reached for my mouth wash and ended up with a mouth full of nail polish remover. I promptly called the Poison Control Center and gave Mr. Yuk something to laugh about.
 Not long after that I had my cat on valium to try to get him to stop spraying. In my haste to get out the door, quite without thinking, I grabbed my juice and swallowed Freddy's pill. The vet got a good laugh over that one.
So, these are just a few of my goofs - we all make them.  Like my friend Shelley who once wore one black shoe and one navy shoe to work. We all thought that was pretty funny and then another co-worker did the same thing. There is also the one about Lynn, who packed her lunch in a hurry and got to work only to realize that the pop she had just pulled out of her bag was a can of beer.
These often become bonding experiences, things we can share for years to come.
I know there are many more stories of silly things I have done - I'll just have to wait and see if anyone else remembers!

glass half full?

I have been working on a group project for my business class for the past six weeks. At one of our meetings one of the younger ladies said to me "You're so glass half full - I love you!" 

Really? I haven't really talked about it or thought much about it, but it has been there, in the back of my mind. I don't think many of the people I worked with for 20 years would say that about me. I also am not sure my family would agree. 

Hearing that from someone new in my life felt good. I must be doing something right. I guess I agree that in certain areas I am a positive person. I give people the benefit of the doubt, I am forgiving, I am pro-active. I took the lessons from Pollyanna to heart - I "look for the good in them."

I do believe in the concept of positive reinforcement. I am trying to be more "glass half full". Spring is almost here. We have sunshine - which I was hoping for. It is almost spring break - and believe me, I could use a break. 

I still have trouble feeling happy though. I am glad spring is coming - I walk out my door and can feel slightly uplifted at hearing my little robins singing. 

You know it's coming, right? You know I am leading up to the negative stuff. There is just no way to be able to describe how I feel without it sounding like complaining. I try to keep it to myself but I think in a lot of ways that just makes it worse. I wonder sometimes why the people who know the  most about how I really feel are people on Patients Like Me who have never met me. How like me are they really? We have some things in common and we "get" each other. I wish I felt that everyone could really "get" it. I am passionate about sharing what it is like to live with Fibromyalgia - but I still hold it in. I don't want to be stigmatized. In fact, I think I already have been, but that is another story.

The last 3 years that I was at the Herald I tried to work with the newsroom to get them to do an awareness story in May (which is the month designated as FMS awareness month). There was interest and I was even told they were working on it. It has been 4 years now. I give up.

I am not even bitter because the "glass half full" side of me knows there are bigger stories. I also know there are worse things in life than this.

It doesn't change the fact that I wish I could enjoy the sunshine as fully as I used to. I wish I could have just one day where everything didn't feel like such a struggle. I wish I could feel rested and not have to go through each day trying to ignore the over-all pain that I am in.

So, my wishes are out there now. Universe, are you listening?

Time for school now. I am going to meet with my group project ladies one last time before our presentation. I am putting on my happy face and walking out - into the sunshine.

Taking a little time...

Just checking in and realized that I have hardly written a word for an entire month. I would like to say that I will do better - but I just don't know. I have used up some of my best energy on other things - like studying for exams and working on group projects. I have also used up some time by posting on Facebook and Patients Like Me. It makes me sad sometimes that I just can't seem to find the time, or rather, that I don't make the time to continue working on my blog.

Sometimes I miss me.

Yes, sometimes I really miss just getting in touch with myself - because I value my own insights and feelings. I like my own writing. I guess that is a good thing.

There is so much in life that makes us lose touch with the things we hold most dear, including our own friends and family. I used to let my job get in my way. I would never plan things during the week because I was just too exhausted to do anything after work. Then I would beat myself up about it and feel like I was just lazy. The weekends would come and I would decide I needed to rest up for the week - and again I would not find time for the things that would make me a happier and more well-rounded person.

The truth is - there is never going to be "enough" time to do all the things I want, to read all the books I want, to write all of my thoughts down. I have to MAKE time.

I am a little happy right now. I am happy that I used the last 10 minutes to write. The rest of the day will be busy with school, studying, grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning and probably a little bit of time that I will wonder what I did with later. (wait, is that a sentence?)

I hope I will write more this week, but as it said on the wall at the old TCH building -

TIME WILL TELL.