Wednesday, July 30, 2014
Those of you who know me know I have a real thing for dragonflies. Long story for another time. BUT, God sent me a "kiss" this afternoon and scared the crap out of me! I had the biggest dragonfly I've ever seen in my bedroom window! It was a beautiful blue. Like water. Trapped it in my 4-cup measuring cup (and it's wings stretched clear across!) and finally set it free outside. Had just written one of THOSE journal entries. Wondered what on earth God was thinkin'! Had that sucker landed on me in the middle of the night, I'd surely have died of fright!
Feelin' somewhat better today. I swear I've been thinking I have narcolepsy! But I realized last night that my sugar was totally off the charts for some reason. Had 3/4 c. mac and cheese, 1 c. green beans, 7 Little Smokie sausages, and 1/2 c. peaches for dinner last night. Two hours later my reading was 235. I nearly choked. Shouldn't have been anywhere near that.
Got a bad tooth, and now I'm wondering if it's infected and driving my sugar up. Will be seeing the dentist next week. That where's-the-bed-I-need-to-lay-down-right-t
ight-here feeling is really scary. When that happens, I sleep HARD. I really did look narcolepsy up this morning to see what the symptoms were, but I'm sure it's not that. Doesn't happen nearly often enough.
It's very weird...
Tuesday, July 29, 2014
His lordship and I are very thankful (NOT!) that our son loved us enough to share whatever bug he's had with us. Was down in bed till 12:30 today. Headache, achy Mac Truck hit-and-run feeling, little Rocky Mountain Quick Step... Felt some better this afternoon, but it's got me in its clutches again tonight, as well as the hubby...
But just wanted to post that Captain Amy and I ran away to Wendover, Nevada last Thursday. Played a few slots, had dinner, spent some time in the pool and hot tub. Then she went down to play Black Jack and I went to the room to read. It was a really nice laid-back 24 hours.
On the way there, we stopped near Tooele and had lunch with Holly Tamale. Hadn't seen her in probably ten years. We had a lovely time. She's getting ready for her life to be turned inside our with hubby retiring. We're praying for ya, girlfriend!
Anyway, just wanted to post something so I could say I posted something and I needed a couple more points to hit bonus today!
Headin' to bed now...
Saturday, July 12, 2014
We're supposed to take an example of such a thing in our life to church tomorrow. No clue what the pastor is going to do with this stuff. But for me, I chose a journal I did when I was working through Julia Cameron's book "The Artist's Way." I started it on 8/12/06 and finished it up on 11/16/06.
It's FULL of all kinds of creative insights into my head and heart. It's the best journal I've ever done. And anyone who even just LOOKS through it would put it down with a clear understanding of who I am. It's full of pictures and poems I've written, insights, etc. It was quite a journey reading back through it this morning. Some of the little poemy things I wrote touched me or made me laugh. Thought I'd paste in a couple. These were in response to questions we had to answer from her book...
(I just post this junk on here because I have nothing else to blog about!!!)
As the anniversary of 9/11 approaches,
the “Don’t Forget” email makes it rounds
for the fifth year begging us not to miss
the chance each day to hug our loved ones
just in case this is the last time you can.
It’s a sad email, made all the more so
by its ring of truth. Just ask me...
This morning, for instance, I sat fiddling around
with a writing exercise that wanted to know
what I liked to do as an 8-year-old.
Well, go to the library of course!
My dad got me my first library card
when I was 6, and was faithful, thereafter,
to share the big wide world with me.
But when he turned 71 he asked me to
take him to the library and teach him
how to use the new computer system
that now allowed entrance to that vast
domain of knowledge instead of the old
index cards. I promised I would...very soon...
I promised again when he turned 72...and 73...
Then suddenly, like a late spring rain, he was gone.
Once upon a time he had opened the door
of the whole world to me, but I had hindered his
journey into the “strange new world” of truncated
subjects by my careless disregard and neglect.
So you see? The email has the ring of truth
because it is the truth! Do it today! Give a hug,
a kiss, a kind word. Believe me, the few seconds
it takes to tell someone you love them costs far less
than the lifetime of regret if you don’t.
Hug someone on 9/11, and let them know
they mean the “world” to you.
I miss you, daddy.
(This was in response to a question
The golden Avon apple candle sits on my desk
giving off its sweet, seductive fragrance,
just waiting for me to symbolically take a bite
that I may slumber in a dumb stupor
while waiting for my Prince Charming.
But even now I am slumbering emotionally,
growing more and more convinced
as the years go by that
there is no Prince Charming for me,
or that, at least, he must have ridden
right past me on that big white steed of his
and didn’t see me lying here.
Either way, I already feel numb and unwanted.
I don’t need a bite of no damn apple for that!
(Yes, his lordship and I have had a few bumps in
our road to Happily Ever After...)
There’s a crazy woman living inside of me
sharing my body, making my life hell.
When I want to lay quiet and drift off to sleep
she sings every song that comes to her mind
running the words and tunes through my head
like the ticker tape across the screen of a newscast.
And if she gets bored with that,
she replays the events of the day
rearranging them like words
on some damn game show board.
“I should have done this.” “I should have said that.”
“I wish I hadn’t,” and “Next time I will...”
To make matters worse, she fancies herself an
expert life manager and ponders deeply how
best to direct my family’s lives, counsel my friends
and fix the world!
And when she runs out of songs, scenarios and
she lays there wide awake and watches the clock,
listening for house noises that might actually be
something far more sinister, her imagination ignited again
by far too many TV murder mysteries.
I don’t want her to go away, not really.
I just want her to get her days and nights turned around
so she’s singing happily through the day and
channeling her vivid imagination and problem solving
into something constructive when I could use it most!
I want her to go to bed at the same time as me,
to close her eyes without a fuss
and give that busy mind of hers a rest.
We’d get along so much better on eight full hours of sleep.
It’s exhausting living with a crazy night owl in your head!
(Yep, I'm an insomniac...)
Thursday, June 26, 2014
Though I haven’t been posting on my WS&DW blog much about Sarah Ban Breathnach’s book “Peace & Plenty”, I’m still working through it in my hand-written journal. I’m a bit disappointed. There’s not nearly so many ideas and inspirations as there were in her other books. But now and then I hit an essay that really resonates with me. Today’s was one of them.
It was a strange one for a book about recovering from money woes. It was about divination, consulting fortune tellers, even using the Bible as a tool to divine your future. But what caught my attention was a quote by Dr. Nathaniel Branden, an expert in the field of self-esteem.
“No one is coming to miraculously change the course of our lives, make us happy, or do all the things we don’t want to do so we don’t have to do them. People can love us, support us, friends can cheer for us and comfort us, but no one else can be the engine of our own destiny.”
So why does that interest me? Because I suffer from that same kind of wishful thinking… Even as an adult.
S.B.B. started this essay by talking about how women during the depression era and the war years seem to have had this insistent need to micro manage their lives – to know what was going to happen to them just around the corner – they were constantly seeking out fortune tellers and tarot readers among other kinds of spiritualists. It became a thriving industry.
Oddly enough, I understand that obsessive drive. I’m the same way. I feel if I’m to have any peace in my life about next week, next month, next year, I need to know what’s going to happen so I can be prepared. I live with that pull 24/7 about every unknown in my life. And it’s not just the immediate world around me that distresses me, but the global world as well worries the hell out of me.
And while I’m frantically focusing on trying to discern my future, my actual life passes me by day in, day out and I’m missing most of it. Seems I rarely ever dwell in the present moment for very long at a time. At least it feels like that. (Though I think little league games and band concerts were the exception.) That’s probably an exaggeration. Still, that hope that “someone is coming” Branden talks about is the theme song always playing in the background of my mind as I carry on with my obsessive, chaotic search for control, fears piling up around me like ripe compost. Hell! I’ve spent my whole life waiting for my fairy godmother to show up and sprinkle me with fairy dust to make everything bright and shiny and perfect.
Now, lest you misunderstand, my life is pretty damn good. Wonderful husband, two great kids, three beautiful grandsons, one cantankerous cat, a little house admittedly in need of repairs, and a looming retirement for his lordship that’s causing us a bit of anxiety. That being said, however, how’d I manage to become so paranoid about the need to control my life? I had a 9 centimeter stomach ulcer by the time I was 20. I’ve been a worrier for as long as I can remember. Must be in my jeans. I mean genes.
Whatever the actual reason, for years I’ve blamed my obsessive behavior on Walt Disney and his damnable “and they lived happily ever afters.” But if what S.B.B. reports in her essay about how much time and effort women invested in divining their future is true, then maybe this wishful thinking is something women are born with and I’m not such a wingnut after all. Is this some trait built in from the caveman years for the hard times, for the preservation of the race so the matriarch that holds the family together won’t give up? (OMG! I never pictured myself as a matriarch… I don’t WANT that responsibility. I’m stressed enough as it is!)
Well, whatever it is that’s going on, I guess I owe Walt an apology. Apparently my particular brand of weirdness may not be his fault after all. I just need to shimmy into my “big girl britches” and deal with my life head on, trusting that what ever happens I’ll get through it. Maybe not with a lot of bibbity bobbity booity, but I will get through it. Don’t really have much choice, do I?
By the way, has anyone seen my fairy godmother anywhere around today? I think she's falling asleep on the job!
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