tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20232860478831952042024-03-13T10:51:26.989-07:00The Journey *is* the RewardMusings by one (not-so-normal) woman on her (not-so-smooth) journey through (this messy, crazy, beautiful) life.~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-30202043262683966082022-01-26T08:07:00.001-08:002022-01-26T08:07:54.734-08:00The Journey Never Paused<p><span style="font-family: times;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: times;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgeahfq9GgcwnEVJSmQjjLFh7Rl8ZbxAu33tdVG1FU_9oPo9khjonLCyPp8hSUlBJfpw9FjB6Yp1jIrAD2mUlQkAjHXyHWuCoVhSMw6kwWLWO4gTQyAc0YEWxyHwRGdTfHeekaUzCvRIAk41qKkANAKMQ0dSh9lJHbP1aquD7etlasGoOxz9ftX36OM=s4032" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgeahfq9GgcwnEVJSmQjjLFh7Rl8ZbxAu33tdVG1FU_9oPo9khjonLCyPp8hSUlBJfpw9FjB6Yp1jIrAD2mUlQkAjHXyHWuCoVhSMw6kwWLWO4gTQyAc0YEWxyHwRGdTfHeekaUzCvRIAk41qKkANAKMQ0dSh9lJHbP1aquD7etlasGoOxz9ftX36OM=w320-h240" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: times;"><br />No matter how much time has elapsed since the last offering was posted here, The Journey never paused, or even slowed its pace. Time continues to hurl each of us forward as we face each new challenge and lesson along the way.</span><p></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13.1px;"><span style="font-family: times;">People enter and exit our lives. Children grow. Jobs come and go.</span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13.1px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">Dreams are realized and, occasionally, dashed.</span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13.1px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">There is beauty, as well as ugliness, to be witnessed and processed.</span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13.1px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">Looking backward over the ensuing years I see joy, sorrow, elation and pain. The reality is that all of these things are necessary to mold and shape us into our True Selves. We must experience “all the things” in order to become who and what we were meant to be.</span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13.1px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">My family has grown, changed, my education furthered and my career advanced.</span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13.1px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">After years of making decisions for others I learned to choose for myself. This was a skill that took effort and practice. </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13.1px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">My primary residence shifted, quite literally, to the other side of the country. We traded in traffic jams for dirt roads, cookie cutter neighborhoods for wide open spaces and city-life convenience for the peace of the country. The “culture shock” is real and welcomed.</span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13.1px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">In the past year I have had to learn to watch the weather forecast and plan ahead. Trips to the store require forethought. For the first time in my life I have to prepare for the “what ifs” that come with actual “weather” - I find that exciting. </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13.1px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">Our lives have been enriched by the beauty of nature that is just outside our windows. Wildlife, wildflowers, and trees all around. We are learning so much! Just by observing the world around us we’ve gained knowledge and respect for nature, its creatures and what they provide to humans.</span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13.1px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">One of the greatest blessings of this change has been the people. With each introduction, our circle of friends has expanded and our lives have been enriched. After a lifetime of barely knowing who lived next door, we have been flooded with the concern and generosity that define “neighbor” here. </span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px; min-height: 13.1px;"><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></p>
<p style="font-stretch: normal; line-height: normal; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: times;">My Journey is shifting and my world expanding - the perfect opportunity to share experiences (the good, the bad and the ugly) with all of you. </span></p><div><br /></div>~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-6323203574841831872013-10-02T12:59:00.000-07:002013-10-02T12:59:33.951-07:00Big Things
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Forgiveness - forgiving - being forgiven. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">These are big
things.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Lately, I’ve been working on forgiving someone. It hasn’t
been easy. Actually, it’s really effing hard!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It’s not that this person needs me to pronounce forgiveness
upon them to release them from what occurred. No, this is not about the other
person. This is all about me.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">*I* need to forgive this person for my own well-being and
healing. Holding on to it - allowing “it” to fester is not doing me one bit of
good – the opposite in fact.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But – I am having a hard time with the actually “forgiving”
because…NO! (stomps feet in protest) This person hurt me in a humongous
and very painful – I-almost-didn’t-come-out-on-the-other-side - way!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I wear it like a badge: “Look at me! I was wronged!” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The bitterness took root a long time ago and has been firmly
in place for many years now. What good has it done me? Not a damned bit!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">All it has done is allow me to use the “pain” and “hurt” to
justify my actions (or lack thereof) and to give me a platform from which to
throw flaming arrows when all else fails. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It has shaped how I respond in certain situations and
governed my point-of-view. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I understand that it has to stop, that the time has come to
pull the bitter weed. The soil in which it thrived has been fouled. It will need
to be nurtured to allow good things to grow - things that will benefit and edify,
not tear down and belittle.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">However….<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Understanding does not equal ability. Not by a long-shot.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This is going to require much
work on my part to release the demons that I have allowed to live - rent free -
in my heart, soul and mind for a long while now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Evicting them won’t be an easy task. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">They have remodeled, added built-in bookcases, invited
family to move in and have generally trashed the place. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There will be much work to do even after they are gone. Tearing
down of walls and repairing of foundational structures – just to start.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It is work that needs to be done. I will have to remind
myself often that Rome was not built in a day. When my tendency to channel Verruca
Salt kicks in, I will need to forgive myself and trust in the process.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Learning to forgive (others as well as myself) is part of my Journey. This is not an
easy lesson for me. If you look behind me you’ll see drag marks where I dug in
my heels – over and over again. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The time has come to let go – learn the lesson – gain the
wisdom and move on. I am certain that the next lesson is waiting just around the bend. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qoaOnDst3Ko/UkxtAr0DpzI/AAAAAAAAAM8/xJpni6NvGBE/s1600/FORGIVENESS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qoaOnDst3Ko/UkxtAr0DpzI/AAAAAAAAAM8/xJpni6NvGBE/s320/FORGIVENESS.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-39470455130549752382013-08-20T21:16:00.000-07:002013-08-20T21:16:59.836-07:00Once Upon A Time...
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O_PepAsPeNw/UhQ8gF-g_GI/AAAAAAAAAMs/XwdWg7T-Ihc/s1600/supergirl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O_PepAsPeNw/UhQ8gF-g_GI/AAAAAAAAAMs/XwdWg7T-Ihc/s200/supergirl.jpg" width="140" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There was a little girl at Fuddrucker’s tonight wearing a
pink super cape and pink mask to go with her blinky-flashy canvas tennis shoes –
she is my new Hero. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Even when I was her age, (4? 5?) I don’t think I would have
done something so brave. From an early age I had a strong sense of what was “allowed”
and what “we don’t do” so-to-speak. Don’t think I would’ve been allowed to go
out for dinner in my Super Awesome Girl get-up. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That’s just what she was: Super & Awesome!</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Her mommy and little brother we already inside and awaiting
the arrival of “Daddy and Chloe” when we placed our order (I have Mom Ears…I
hear everything). When Chloe arrived she hugged her little brother who greeted
her with “OH HI!” and returned the embrace (SIGH! My kids never did that when
they were little – hell, they rarely do that now as “growned ups”).</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I want to be – no, I SHOULD be - more like Chloe! </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Free to march around Fuddrucker’s (or any ole place I choose)
as if it’s my personal establishment, flaunting my blink-flashy canvas tennis
shoes and swooshing my awesome pink cape - with the lightning bolt on the back…yeah,
and a mask too…a bit o’ anonymity is always good (besides, it completes the
look). </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sadly…I am not Awesome, Super, Sparkly girl…I am boring,
responsible, reserved, introverted little me. No blinky-flashy shoes, no cape,
no mask…just my long-ish shirt (to cover my hip and rear bulges) and my plain
old flipflops (comfortable but not fashionable) and my drab, capri pants. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As always, hindered by my perception of “what
I am allowed to do/be/wear” in polite company.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It wasn’t always this way. Once upon a time I was that
little girl – afraid of nothing (except maybe of NOT being/expressing who I
was) and somewhere along the way I lost that.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When did that happen? When did I become a slave to the “rules”
others have determined are proper? For that matter who died and made <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">those people</i> boss? Huh?!</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I have photographic evidence that once, a long, long, time
ago…I “dressed up”! I wore outlandish outfits and dwelled in a world fashioned
out of fantasy and a vivid imagination. I built blanket forts and coerced my
friends into helping me “play school” (I was pretty much always “the teacher”)and "Pioneer Explorers" in the canyons.
I was free to be whomever and whatever I wanted. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Now, I play by the rules. I squash down that little girl and
her Super Tendencies and I put my “professional” face forward. I work my
40-hour-week, collect my check, pay my bills and gaze longingly at those who
are able to express themselves freely. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">What the hell happened?! </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">To Chloe’s Mommy and Daddy I say: Thank you! Keep up the good
work! You have a Super Awesome Sparkly Girl! Don’t let her lose that spark! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As for me? I will stive to be more like “Super Chloe”! Sparkly, Awesome, Blinky-flashy and most importantly SUPER!</span><br />
~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-24694572096432402382013-08-14T15:58:00.000-07:002013-08-14T15:58:00.570-07:00The Comfort Zone
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LTB-UPzXkIQ/UgwH4gKAqnI/AAAAAAAAAMM/2wzhjc-h5r0/s1600/uncomfortable.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LTB-UPzXkIQ/UgwH4gKAqnI/AAAAAAAAAMM/2wzhjc-h5r0/s320/uncomfortable.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">^This quote^</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I saw this quote the other day and it struck something deep
within me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Most of my life I hid beneath the cover of shyness. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Looking back I realize that the truth is
that I was afraid. Fear was the paralytic that held me in place – halting forward
progress.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Realizing this, and looking back over my life, it makes me
sad. There are gifts that I was blessed with that I didn’t share because of
this fear. Opportunities were missed because of the lies fear whispered to me. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The few times I was able to rise above the fear a powerful
joy to take its place.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And then, one day, I made the choice to become a nurse. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There is no room in nursing for the kind of fear that had
filled my life up to that point. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In order to succeed at my dream I HAD to step outside of
what I knew, outside my habits and what was comfortable, and be - *GULP* -
uncomfortable.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">An amazing thing happened when I chose to be uncomfortable –
my definition of “uncomfortable” began to shift. The very act of doing
something that made me uncomfortable allowed me to *become* comfortable doing
it! <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">This phenomenon continued as I progressed through my nursing
courses, after graduation and on into my personal life. What I define as my “comfort
level” changes each day. I have stepped so far beyond the boundaries that
previously held me in check that I can’t even see that place from where I stand
today. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I still have fears – old habits die hard. Every day I
struggle with choosing the uncomfortable over that which is familiar and “safe”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That voice of doubt still whispers in my ear:
“What if you fail?” “What if you totally suck at this?” “What if they laugh at
you?”<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">What if it’s AMAZING? What if *I* am AMAZING?! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">…go away fear…I am going to try “uncomfortable” today!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-9542324997006104492013-08-13T11:05:00.000-07:002013-08-13T12:07:03.675-07:00Are We There Yet?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z7L-ohxrCY8/Ugpx0VZPZ6I/AAAAAAAAALs/n3i7H1RGmh0/s1600/get+there.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="319" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z7L-ohxrCY8/Ugpx0VZPZ6I/AAAAAAAAALs/n3i7H1RGmh0/s320/get+there.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Have you ever set a goal for yourself or
embarked on a personal journey? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Maybe, it was a decision to go back to school and finish something
you started years ago. Perhaps it was choosing a different profession that
requires starting over, from scratch. It might even be something as simple as
adding exercise to your daily routine. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Or, it might be that you just “became aware” one day that
you are supposed to be doing a certain thing with your life – as if the
Universe was nudging you in a specific direction.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">No matter what the goal or journey is, we often form a mental
picture of what achieving that goal will mean; what life will look like when we
cross the proverbial finish line. That image becomes a focal point.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Every journey begins with that first step. Often, the first steps
involve research and laying ground work for success on the journey we have
chosen. As we map out the road ahead we are filled with
the amazing-ness of what we are about to do. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It’s all very exciting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">And then, the real work begins.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The thing is, sometimes we start down a path only to realize
that it’s a lot more work than we imagined. It might even take longer to reach
the end than we originally thought. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There may be times when the work is just too much – when we
just <em>can’t</em> anymore. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sometimes life throws curveballs at us. We might be happily
walking down our new path and checking items off the To Do List when
suddenly a huge DETOUR sign appears before us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It doesn’t matter if it’s a professional goal, school, a
spiritual journey, physical fitness, or parenthood…there are always bumps in
the road of Life’s Journey.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">We know this. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Knowing is half the battle.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Allowing is the other half. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">No matter how frustrating and painful the detours may be we
have to trust that all things happen for a reason. ALL THINGS. There are
lessons hidden in even the darkest moments we endure on our Journeys here.
Allowing the lessons to come to us and accepting what they offer can enrich us
beyond our wildest imagination. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Fighting against the bumps and detours only causes more pain
– spiritually and physically. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Go with it
– ask the Universe what it is that you are supposed to be learning (be sure to
take note of whatever the lesson is) - and wait for the challenge to pass. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Always remember: you are not in this alone! We’ve all been
there. Ask your fellow human beings for support!<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Oh, and this is important: BREATHE!! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">When we are stressed, worried or hyper focused we tend to
forget to take deep, cleansing breaths! Breathing deeply, from the center of
our being, is vital for healing and grounding ourselves. <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">All of us are on journeys. We are all working toward goals and
dreams. Enjoy your Journey and honor others as they walk theirs. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The Universe knows the moment when you will arrive at the
end of this Journey – be patient – you WILL get there. You may find that the end result is far more amazing than what you imagined. Sometimes our minds put
limits on things that the Universe refuses to observe. =)</span>~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-76356528582540153852013-04-02T20:10:00.001-07:002013-04-02T20:10:10.354-07:00Of Faith and Promises
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After spending nearly 50 years with the same person, you know
them pretty well. You can almost read their mind and, usually, you can finish
their sentences.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The vows you took bind you together with loving, honoring,
cherishing and faithfulness to each other through thick and thin.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PWdfF6XJTlk/UVuc5ZdsGnI/AAAAAAAAALE/dEU-nvtigHc/s1600/Romantic-Vintage-Wedding-Picture-flickr.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PWdfF6XJTlk/UVuc5ZdsGnI/AAAAAAAAALE/dEU-nvtigHc/s200/Romantic-Vintage-Wedding-Picture-flickr.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">You’ve memorized their unconscious habits and the quirks of
their personality. Perhaps you can even recognize them from a great distance
solely from their movements or their walk. The sound of their voice is discernible
even across a crowded and noisy room.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Imagine what it would be like if your partner, your
soul-mate, suddenly lost their ability to communicate with you; their ability
to speak gone in an instant. All that you knew to be truth changed – a new
reality settled in its place. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Will your ability to seemingly “read their mind” prove to be
accurate? When there are no sentence fragments to guide you – will you know all
the answers? </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Imagine, further, that along with the loss of their voice
they have lost the use of half of their body. One whole side completely useless
and limp. Everyday things like: eating, bathing, dressing, toileting…all impossible
without the aid of another.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">A love nurtured and deepened over nearly five decades put to
the test in the refining fires of a stroke. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sudden. Without warning. Silent. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Occasionally, in my line of work, I get to witness the kind
of love it takes to weather that kind of storm. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Once, in a blue moon, I walk away from a situation feeling
blessed and honored to have been in the presence of something that I cannot
fully comprehend.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Last week I had one of those rare moments.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I watched as one spouse cared for the other and struggled to
understand the “language” that the brain had created in the absence of true
speech. Facial expressions, intonation and one-handed gestures all there was to
go on. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">In the several weeks since the stroke “yes”, “no” and “ok”
had been regained. At least, now, there was confirmation of accuracy - immediately.
Most of the time their closeness and the ability of one to understand the other
proves accurate and the ailing spouse is “heard”! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The love they share is palpable and overwhelming. As I
witnessed the strength of their marriage vows I was filled awe. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">They do as much together as possible and their teamwork is allowing
the slow and steady return of strength and movement in the limbs affected by
the stroke. They have faith that, in time, full use of the affected limbs will
return. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">They have faith.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NTl7PHv-Je8/UVucFyJdJuI/AAAAAAAAAK4/FwoJSPbEPzQ/s1600/faithrock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="135" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NTl7PHv-Je8/UVucFyJdJuI/AAAAAAAAAK4/FwoJSPbEPzQ/s200/faithrock.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">That is the cornerstone of their relationship. They share a
faith in God that surpassed the “tragedy” that took away (temporarily) a voice
and the ability to use one arm and one leg. They are holding on to that faith
with everything they have.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“For better or for worse”</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“In sickness and in health”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Those words carry more weight when spoken in the context of
a major illness. I can only hope that I will pass the test should I ever be
faced with a challenge such as theirs.</span><br />
~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-3848173384646999502013-03-22T10:10:00.000-07:002013-03-22T10:10:32.934-07:00Sticks and Stones
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dD7sOTJrW6o/UUyPwfrJwqI/AAAAAAAAAKg/e3yG3Hg1eMk/s1600/Sticks-and-Stones-1-1989-ps5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dD7sOTJrW6o/UUyPwfrJwqI/AAAAAAAAAKg/e3yG3Hg1eMk/s320/Sticks-and-Stones-1-1989-ps5.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I used to chant that children’s rhyme a lot when I was a
kid…but I never really believed it. Still don’t.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">“Names” – when hurled in anger - can and do hurt. A lot. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve been called a lot of mean things by many different
people in my life…most I choose to forget. Some, I can never erase from my
mind. I’m sure you’ve heard these words used carelessly in your life as well:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Stupid<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Worthless<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Useless<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Ungrateful<span style="mso-tab-count: 2;"> </span>Crazy<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>Ugly<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Fat<span style="mso-tab-count: 3;"> </span>Liar<span style="mso-tab-count: 4;"> </span>Dumbass<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As we get older “names” can take different forms. Something
like an off-hand remark by a colleague or an email you weren’t supposed to see,
or even not being invited for drinks after work can be just as painful as being
called “doo-doo head” by the kid next door.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The pain can be even deeper if the name calling is preceded
by something (an act or event) that was stressful to begin with. Like realizing
you’ve made a mistake. That alone is jarring…painful. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Having to own up to you error, and the scope of it, is
torture. Apologizing for the mistake is not super-comfy either. Any “name
calling” that occurs in that sort of situation can have a deep and scarring
impact on a person’s integrity and their heart-of-hearts. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I am just as guilty of “name calling” as the next
person…I’ve let words fly without thinking…and wished, too late, that I could
take those words back. There have been occasions when I have stubbornly refused
to accept a heartfelt apology based on my own pain and, perhaps, a desire to
make the other person suffer along with me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Every day, each of us has moments that give us an
opportunity to choose our words and decide whether we impact those who will
hear them in a positive or negative way. Choose wisely. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Words are precious. Words can never be taken back. It
behooves us to THINK about what we are about to say – to ponder the potential
impact they may have on the person(s) we are speaking to, near or about –
BEFORE we utter them…releasing them, and their energy, into the universe
forever.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sqK8MeXB2nE/UUyP5-aVWQI/AAAAAAAAAKo/XY3-zO8vlFw/s1600/caution_use_care.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-sqK8MeXB2nE/UUyP5-aVWQI/AAAAAAAAAKo/XY3-zO8vlFw/s1600/caution_use_care.jpg" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span> </div>
~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-91998366749912792242013-02-20T17:01:00.001-08:002013-02-20T17:01:32.797-08:00Not in a Box...Not with a Fox
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Qd2uUVrfQjU/USVv7j1kzlI/AAAAAAAAAKM/DVixrrivpaw/s1600/peas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Qd2uUVrfQjU/USVv7j1kzlI/AAAAAAAAAKM/DVixrrivpaw/s320/peas.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">When I was a little girl, my mother loved to serve peas with
our dinner. It seemed like there were peas on my plate on far too many nights.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I was not a fan of the peas. Not. At. All.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Peas were mushy and slimy. Peas made me gag. Literally.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There were evenings when I would try to strike a bargain
with my mom…”If you let me <em>not</em> eat my peas…I’ll…wash all the windows for you.”…never
worked.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I got the standard speeches about “starving children in
Africa” and the “poor children without mommies and daddies who’d love to have
my peas”…I offered to let them have the stupid peas on more than one occasion. That usually earned me a
week or so of no TV or even no playing outside (which used to actually be a
punishment). </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There came a time when my mother was over the whole thing.
She sat me down and explained to me that she was The Mom. As such she was
allowed to dictate what was on my dinner plate. Because I was The Child I had
to eat what was on my plate or go hungry and risk losing privileges. Period.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Then she said the magic words that I have held close to my
heart ever since: “When you’re The Mom you don’t ever have to serve peas in
your house.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">**Hallelujah Chorus**</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Yes!! One day I would be the one controlling what was on my
dinner plate! AWESOME! Never mind that that day was eons away – it was a hope I
could hold on to. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Additionally, Mom conceded that it would be OK if I held my
nose when downing the nefarious peas…at least they were going in my tummy.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Fast forward thirty-something years to this evening. I tried
a new recipe in my crock pot and made mashed potatoes to go along with that.
What to do for a veggie? I looked in my freezer…there, staring back at me was
the large bag of “organic peas” that I bought as part of a Cowboy Pie recipe I
make frequently (the peas are part of a mish-mash of ingredients – you can
hardly taste them! ). </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Hmmmm? Peas? Maybe…NAH!! </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">But…then again. What harm could it do. I’m The Mom now…right?
I do NOT have to eat them if I still *hate* them…right?</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Here’s the rub… We might want to send someone to check on
hell…see if it’s frozen over.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I sorta liked ‘em. <ducks behind="" chair=""></ducks></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">There! I said it! I like peas! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were rather yummy with a bit of butter
and some sea salt. </span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Please, don’t tell my mom =)</span></div>
~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-23644035680200050952013-02-16T17:40:00.001-08:002013-02-16T18:26:28.713-08:00It's a Trap!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AuKlNbrhth0/USAz6iTaeoI/AAAAAAAAAJs/K80iiV5jENM/s1600/its+a+trap.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-AuKlNbrhth0/USAz6iTaeoI/AAAAAAAAAJs/K80iiV5jENM/s320/its+a+trap.jpg" width="216" /></a> I've decided I don't want to be a "grown-up" anymore.</div>
<br />
There is far too much yucky stuff (a.k.a. responsibilities) that comes with the title. Bills to pay, taxes to file, laundry to do, houses to keep clean, jobs to find...ick.<br />
<br />
I'm over it. <br />
<br />
I want to go back to the days when my biggest concern was whether or not the cute guy with the locker two rows down from mine knew I was alive. <br />
<br />
Do you remember those days? <br />
<br />
Homework was pretty much the biggest responsibility we had. Many of us had chores that we *had* to do for Mom & Dad - but, those paled in comparison to homework and our social calendar. <br />
<br />
Now my calendar (the non-social one) is filled with reminders to pay this bill and that premium...as well as appointment reminders for annual check-ups and vehicle repairs. Man! Being responsible is hard work! Exhausting actually!<br />
<br />
I miss the days when "weekend" meant deciding whose house we were going to hang out at - preferrably the one we can all crash at because their mom is cool with it - and which movie to rent. We'd easily divide up the snack responsibilities (chips, soda, pizza, ice cream) - go to the store - buy everything we wanted and hunker down to "hang out" with our besties. Now...weekends are often the time used for things we can't do during the week. Like yard work & household repairs. So boring.<br />
<br />
Weekends of "fun" are now planned well in advance and often require saving extra funds and scheduling time off from work. Far too much work for what is supposed to be relaxing. It really sucks.<br />
<br />
All those school holidays we had and looked forward to? Gone.<br />
<br />
Couple weeks off here and there for Christmas and Easter? Gone.<br />
<br />
The occasional babysitting gig to buy something special at the mall? Thing of the past. <br />
<br />
Being a Grown-up means 40+ hour work weeks, W-2s, budgets and mortgages. <br />
<br />
Yep. I definitely want off this merry-go-round. Same thing, year in and year out. Not much changes and there isn't much to look forward to anymore. All those milestone birthdays have passed - except, perhaps, the year that we qualify for a "senior discount" <cringe>.</cringe><br />
<br />
I miss the variety & spice that came with youthgul, ignorant bliss. <br />
<br />
Life is filled with routine and requirement now...and I am not a fan. <br />
<br />
Kids...enjoy your youth...it doesn't last long! <br />
<br />
Don't be in such a hurry to "grow up"! It's a TRAP! <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w-UoZl0EriA/USA_wnI_-aI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/HCgJcnaNxFE/s1600/star+wars+its+a+trap.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="146" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-w-UoZl0EriA/USA_wnI_-aI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/HCgJcnaNxFE/s200/star+wars+its+a+trap.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-2668398177239576832013-02-08T12:37:00.001-08:002013-02-08T12:37:13.137-08:00Role ReversalI am not a fan of being on this side of the lab coat. I am uncomfortable without my stethoscope, blood pressure cuff and fancy name tag. This side of the lab coat doesn't feel natural to me.<br />
<br />
Being The Nurse feels natural to me. I'm good at that. The Nurse is the one on the outside of the situation (supposedly), the one with some semblance of control over a few variables.<br />
<br />
I am great at being The Nurse! Managing the care of others. Education and advocating for my patients. That feels natural, that is what is comfortable for me.<br />
<br />
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">Unfortunately, today I am not The Nurse...today, I am on the other side of the lab coat. Today, I am The Patient's Family Member.</span><br />
<br />
I am not good at being "The Patient's Family Member". Plain and simple.<br />
<br />
Specifically, I am not good at being told what I can and cannot do. I do not enjoy letting someone else have control.<br />
<br />
I have a hard time asking for something as simple a blanket or a glass of water when I know where they are and *could*, *technically* just go get it myself. Also, I am not a fan of having to go all the way to the end of hall to use the bathroom (although I do understand the "why" behind that rule).<br />
<br />
<span style="-webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); -webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.292969);">Having to switch roles in such a drastic way sends me way off kilter. It's disorienting and confusing. Logic tells me that I can't expect all my Loved One's caregivers to know that I am a nurse, that I KNOW this stuff. Simple because, they don't know me. But...</span>I get irritated when someone new comes in & begins to speak to me like I am a small child with learning disabilities. (Please, gawd, I pray I have NEVER spoken to anyone in that tone while caring for them). I tend to lose grip...and get snarky.<br />
<br />
Snarky tends to become something more emotional - and the stress all comes crashing in - and I end up sitting with the previously mentioned blanket covering my face while I cry, softly, trying not to disturb my Loved One. He needs his rest, after all, he is the patient.<br />
<br />
You know what? I really, truly do not enjoy being on this side of the lab coat! I will be grateful when everything is back to normal and I can be The Nurse again!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ceM6-V8O65E/UBDXh9OoR7I/AAAAAAAAAEk/oCMbVoFO9hQ/s1600/pink+flowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ceM6-V8O65E/UBDXh9OoR7I/AAAAAAAAAEk/oCMbVoFO9hQ/s1600/pink+flowers.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-45160470917235358662013-02-06T10:50:00.000-08:002013-02-06T10:51:15.833-08:00To Whom It May ConcernDear Email Spammers,<br />
<br />
There are a few things you need to consider when sending your BS emails to me:<br />
<br />
1) I am a straight female and, therefore, have no reason to "turn her on tonight"nor do I need your "penis enlargement" products.<br />
<br />
2) I am not a "senior" hence I do not require any memberships or social/dating groups which cater to people "of a certain age". Similarly, I am definitely not yet eligible for Medicare or AARP.<br />
<br />
3) As previously stated in #2 I am not yet in the category of those who may require a "scooter" or other motorized chair - thanks.<br />
<br />
4) As a female I am not seeking a bride of any nationality - not Russian, Chinese or Latin whether they are "hot" or not.<br />
<br />
5) I do NOT own a timeshare.<br />
<br />
6) Golf is not my thing...never has been.<br />
<br />
7) Although, (as previously discussed) I am not a "senior," I am also not a teenager and have no need for Proactiv, or any other "acne solutions". It would have been nice if they'd been around when I actually did need them however.<br />
<br />
8) I have no need for "V.DiCarlo" or his "Dating Secrets"...thank you very much.<br />
<br />
9) Just because it's February does not mean you can try to shame me into purchasing some quasi-romantic gift for my "special someone"...not even by sending me a dozen ads each day. Nope. Not gonna work.<br />
<br />
10) If your "miracle" product was truly a miracle...why do I have to read about it in an unsolicited email?<br />
<br />
11) Should I decide to seek out cosmetic procedures of any kind, you can rest assured I will not begin my research with your email titled "Anti-aging secret" or "Look Younger NOW"<br />
<br />
12) This is not my first rodeo - I know you are not a Prince in need of my assistance to gain access to your fortune. Seriously, go away.<br />
<br />
13) I'd love to know who told you I snore? HUH?! Who was it? I'll kill 'em!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s3yeUbr25YM/URKhz46IRhI/AAAAAAAAAJc/zpH5dLOxrWQ/s1600/emailRound.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s3yeUbr25YM/URKhz46IRhI/AAAAAAAAAJc/zpH5dLOxrWQ/s200/emailRound.gif" width="200" /></a></div>
p.s. I don't actually open any of the emails that fall into the category of "spam" - I have a system in place to mass delete them as well as a spam folder where they are banished...until the spammers come up with a work-around. Evil little bastards!~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-19398159550065417182013-02-02T13:57:00.001-08:002013-02-02T13:57:36.513-08:00The Rest is Still Unwritten!
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have those words on my wall . There was a time
when I needed to be reminded of the “blankness” of my future – of the clean
slate that lay before me.</span><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tgnemCThqT4/UQ2ICtW9ABI/AAAAAAAAAI4/Ia1P0OG0NME/s1600/Unwritten+UL.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="117" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-tgnemCThqT4/UQ2ICtW9ABI/AAAAAAAAAI4/Ia1P0OG0NME/s400/Unwritten+UL.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In vinyl lettering, where I will see it EVERY day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A failed marriage, a run in with a con-artist and several
failed relationships had severely damaged how I saw myself and my life as a
whole. It was a dark place to be. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Then, one day, the lyrics for <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b7k0a5hYnSI&noredirect=1" target="_blank">Unwritten</a> (by Natasha Bedingfield) hit me like a ton of
bricks! Suddenly, it all made perfect sense.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">As I drove down the road that day – listening to the words
blaring through the speakers – it hit me! It's true! No one else can live this life for me. I
can’t truly live if I am always afraid of the “next bad thing.” I have to live
like I’ve never experienced the pain of rejection, the searing jolt of loss or
the ache that comes with uncertainty. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Our society teaches us that making mistakes is “bad.” On the
contrary! Mistakes teach us life lessons and skills that we need to succeed as
we move forward on the path of our lives. If we never stumbled, or landed flat
on our faces, we would never gain the wisdom we need to be successful at
living.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">It is vital that we take the knowledge gained from our
mistakes, file it away in our hearts, leave the mistake behind us and move forward.
There is no need to look back toward the mistake – we are not, after all, going
in that direction. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Before us lies an unblemished path. There are no footprints
on it yet, no mistakes, no pain and no expectations.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">We have within us the information we have gathered and saved
thus far on our journey. Our toolbox has more than enough items to aid us as we
continue on our way. What works, what doesn’t, how to navigate specific
situations and where to look if we need help. All these things are ours to tap
into at any given moment.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Each of us knows where we’ve been and some of us even know
where we would like to end up – and maybe not, that's not important now. That’s
the beauty of life – we have the combined knowledge of all that have been
through to guide us along the way – but…the rest is still unwritten!</span> </span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RGLkXEkQHsI/UQ2IceZC4qI/AAAAAAAAAJA/yzC0zZUIDE4/s1600/blank+journal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="256" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RGLkXEkQHsI/UQ2IceZC4qI/AAAAAAAAAJA/yzC0zZUIDE4/s320/blank+journal.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No expectations, no judgement, just blank pages.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
</div>
~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-28297297025148919842013-02-01T15:08:00.000-08:002013-02-01T15:08:45.048-08:00Friday Morning at Wal-Mart
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I have decided that I enjoy shopping at Wal-Mart on Friday
mornings. Normally the mere thought of going there raises my blood pressure and triggers the beginnings of a panic attack - but not today. Today was different.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The people I encountered there this morning were far more
friendly and personable than the “usual crowd.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Just walking in from the parking lot I was greeted with
several smiles and a “hello” – all from total strangers (yes, for you dirty
minded ones, I made sure there wasn’t a “reason” for the sudden friendliness…no
open buttons or cleavage showing).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">As I made my way up and down the aisles (didn’t have a list
today – which is out of character for me – normally I know exactly where to go
for what’s on my list – today I wandered) I was met with people asking each
other for advice regarding which cold/flu medications work best, how that pain product they were holding worked and was there anyone who could reach that thing on the top shelf. Opinions were
being offered and assistance given to those who needed it. Very civilized and friendly banter.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Even the employees this morning were a cut above what
I’m used to. As I stood in the fabric aisle - pondering which flannel print to
purchase – a saleswoman said “Uh oh! She’s deciding!” I laughed and said “This
is what happens when you spend hours on <a href="http://pinterest.com/" target="_blank">Pinterest </a>finding craft ideas.” The
saleswoman stopped what she was doing, came over to where I was standing and
talked to me for several minutes about why I like Pinterest. You see, she isn’t
a “crafter” or a “sew-er” (her word) so she didn’t see the point. I asked if
she cooked…DING! That did it! She said the next time she sees me she may be mad
at me for sucking away all her spare time. See? Not the norm for Wal-Mart (or
anywhere for that matter these days).</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Later, as I stood in line to pay for may mish-mash of items,
the little girl in the cart two customers ahead of me - munching on McDonald's fries (lucky kid) waved and said “HI!” I
waved and said “HI!” back. Then the gentleman in between us
turned (I assume to see who she was waving at) and struck up a chat about the
yarn I was buying. Soon, he introduced himself and asked me what I knew about “Irish
wool”…not much, I’m afraid…beyond how expensive it is. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Just then another register opened up and I she waved us over…my
new acquaintance let me go first since he had already placed his items on the
counter.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Stunned. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Amazed. </span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XJy5Ivvf6tk/UQxKgjrAE9I/AAAAAAAAAIo/zL9kh2Bffuk/s1600/sunflower.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XJy5Ivvf6tk/UQxKgjrAE9I/AAAAAAAAAIo/zL9kh2Bffuk/s1600/sunflower.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Feelin' all blue-skis and sunflowery today<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am thoroughly happy with humanity today. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">For just a few moments it felt like the “old days” when I
was a kid and my mom took us with her to Gemco. Every trip was like the one I
had this morning. Friendly people, impromptu chats and courtesy all around! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Why</span></span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> can’t it be like that again…all the time? </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I miss the way
things used to be. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
The proprieters of the local shops knew us by name - remembered to ask about things & people that we held dear. Sometimes, they even offered deals on products because...well, just because.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
I miss living in a friendly community like that. What makes the whole thing sad is that I still live in the same neighborhood I grew up in. What has happened to us as a society?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
We probably ought to do something about it - soon.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"></span> </div>
~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-85725317325170444792013-01-28T22:41:00.000-08:002013-01-28T22:41:52.121-08:00Monday Manners Rant<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">"Manners are a sensitive awareness of the feeling of others. If you have that awareness, you have good manners, no matter which fork you use."</span></span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">~Emily Post</span></span></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oAXp66dqnpw/UQdjPFH5d5I/AAAAAAAAAH0/toSsOiviTmo/s1600/Good_Manners.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oAXp66dqnpw/UQdjPFH5d5I/AAAAAAAAAH0/toSsOiviTmo/s200/Good_Manners.jpg" width="132" /></a></div>
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
<o:AllowPNG/>
</o:OfficeDocumentSettings>
</xml><![endif]--><br />
<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:WordDocument>
<w:View>Normal</w:View>
<w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom>
<w:TrackMoves/>
<w:TrackFormatting/>
<w:PunctuationKerning/>
<w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/>
<w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>
<w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent>
<w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>
<w:DoNotPromoteQF/>
<w:LidThemeOther>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther>
<w:LidThemeAsian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian>
<w:LidThemeComplexScript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript>
<w:Compatibility>
<w:BreakWrappedTables/>
<w:SnapToGridInCell/>
<w:WrapTextWithPunct/>
<w:UseAsianBreakRules/>
<w:DontGrowAutofit/>
<w:SplitPgBreakAndParaMark/>
<w:DontVertAlignCellWithSp/>
<w:DontBreakConstrainedForcedTables/>
<w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/>
<w:Word11KerningPairs/>
<w:CachedColBalance/>
</w:Compatibility>
<m:mathPr>
<m:mathFont m:val="Cambria Math"/>
<m:brkBin m:val="before"/>
<m:brkBinSub m:val="--"/>
<m:smallFrac m:val="off"/>
<m:dispDef/>
<m:lMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:rMargin m:val="0"/>
<m:defJc m:val="centerGroup"/>
<m:wrapIndent m:val="1440"/>
<m:intLim m:val="subSup"/>
<m:naryLim m:val="undOvr"/>
</m:mathPr></w:WordDocument>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
<w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" DefUnhideWhenUsed="true"
DefSemiHidden="true" DefQFormat="false" DefPriority="99"
LatentStyleCount="267">
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="0" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Normal"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="heading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="9" QFormat="true" Name="heading 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 7"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 8"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" Name="toc 9"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="35" QFormat="true" Name="caption"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="10" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" Name="Default Paragraph Font"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="11" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtitle"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="22" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Strong"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="20" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="59" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Table Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Placeholder Text"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="1" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="No Spacing"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Revision"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="34" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="List Paragraph"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="29" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="30" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Quote"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 1"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 2"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 3"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 4"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 5"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="60" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="61" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="62" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Light Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="63" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="64" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Shading 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="65" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="66" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium List 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="67" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 1 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="68" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 2 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="69" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Medium Grid 3 Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="70" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Dark List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="71" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Shading Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="72" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful List Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="73" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" Name="Colorful Grid Accent 6"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="19" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="21" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Emphasis"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="31" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Subtle Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="32" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Intense Reference"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="33" SemiHidden="false"
UnhideWhenUsed="false" QFormat="true" Name="Book Title"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="37" Name="Bibliography"/>
<w:LsdException Locked="false" Priority="39" QFormat="true" Name="TOC Heading"/>
</w:LatentStyles>
</xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 10]>
<style>
/* Style Definitions */
table.MsoNormalTable
{mso-style-name:"Table Normal";
mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0;
mso-tstyle-colband-size:0;
mso-style-noshow:yes;
mso-style-priority:99;
mso-style-qformat:yes;
mso-style-parent:"";
mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt;
mso-para-margin-top:0in;
mso-para-margin-right:0in;
mso-para-margin-bottom:10.0pt;
mso-para-margin-left:0in;
line-height:115%;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-size:11.0pt;
font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif";
mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri;
mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;
mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";
mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast;
mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri;
mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;}
</style>
<![endif]-->
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The more time I spent outside my house lately, the more I strongly dislike people. It seems as though good manners, common courtesy and, dare I say it...common sense, have, for the most part, vanished from our society.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
People are so rude and unaware of their surroundings that it makes me want to lock my doors and stay home. Permanently. I just can't stomach it anymore.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While shopping at Costco recently we were forced to stop and wait for the individual who was operating the cart, which was completely blocking the aisle, to move. She saw us (and the 3 other people she was holding up) but couldn't possibly have cared any less. Our presence did not disturb her revere in the least. When she finally got her sh!t together and moved she ignored the glares directed at her - oblivious. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A couple aisles over I encountered a younger version of the above mentioned aisle-hog. He had, apparently, been left to "man the cart" while mom wandered away to god-only-knows-where. This young person was too busy exercising his stellar balancing skills and trick cart moves to notice the adults trying to access the refrigerated shelves he was blocking. Not even "excuse me" or "HELLO?" could break his awesome concentration. Eventually I just opened the door and got what I needed...I pretended not to notice that it whacked him and ended a phenomenal cart maneuver he was executing at the time (picture BMX-type tricks only performed on the sides of a shopping cart...yeah...neat, huh?).</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This afternoon while driving on one of our many beautiful California freeways (sarcasm? Me? No!) we were forced to SLAM on the brakes to avoid rear-ending the POS car in front of us that was - lost?...drunk?...confused? Who knows?! But she was suddenly NOT MOVING! Don't recall seeing any brake lights - just remember seeing her "I heart Obamacare" sticker getting larger and larger as it approached our front bumper. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Did I mention this occurred on a freeway junction on ramp?! There were vehicles behind us that were having to slam on their brakes as well...do you think she gave a crap? Hell no! Eventually, we went around her...as did the others behind us. Idiot.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then there was the person in the grocery store parking lot who had picked out the front space...you know? The one RIGHT in front of the door? You see, the gentleman who was in that space was putting his purchases in his trunk - so the guy in the lifted, fat tire, extra-cab, monster truck decided *he* wanted it next. So he waited...which seems like the right thing to do...except - he didn't use his blinker (so from our vantage point he just stopped) and he was blocking THE ENTIRE ENTRY ROAD - in BOTH directions! </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was quickly obvious that we weren't the only ones peeved by this person's rude behavior as horns began to honk all around us. We were able to get around him, park and begin our walk into the store before Mr. Special got his mammoth truck parked. How'd that "front row" space work out for you there buck-o?!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Taking care to watch him exit his vehicle (we wanted to see what that level of "I-don't-give-a-sh!t" looks like) we noticed he had two small rudeness apprentices with him. Sigh! That's just fantastic! Then I saw the license plate...out of state...couldn't make out where he was from, but my money is on Massachusetts. *snort*</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I don't believe I am the only one who has noticed this shift. It has gotten so rampant that I've noticed people are reluctant to strike up conversations or ask for help when out in public. It's sad really.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since my mother drilled good manners into my skull from an early age - I still employ them on a daily basis. Usually, it's a one-way deal. That's OK really...cuz the one time I lapse and snark at someone - my mother will find out about it and I do NOT want that to happen. *shudder* </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My kids have been raised in an environment that requires them to use "magic words" to function. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VmPKO-G5mtQ/UQdnsTZU8uI/AAAAAAAAAIE/QN-OKPdTt7c/s1600/pleasesign032011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="151" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VmPKO-G5mtQ/UQdnsTZU8uI/AAAAAAAAAIE/QN-OKPdTt7c/s200/pleasesign032011.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The boys have been schooled in Gentlemanly behaviors such as opening a lady's door for her and carrying the heavy stuff so she doesn't have to.The girls learned hostess skills such as asking guests to sit down and to offer a beverage. Easy enough, right?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is not rocket science people! Manners are not optional! We live in a "civilized society" but many are acting like savages! It's just not OK!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I understand that you are on a tight schedule and running late...but that does not mean that you get to through caution to the wind, cut me off on the freeway and create a hazardous situation to better your position in life. Not one of us is more important that the other - we are all worthy and valuable. If we take turns (just like back in Kindergarten on the playground) everyone will get there - in one piece.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Seriously...if we go back to the basics...waaaaay back to when we were small and had to do what we were told - or else...the world would be a better place -- especially if we got to take naps every afternoon - just sayin'!!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-17724810087085186572013-01-21T19:44:00.000-08:002013-04-25T19:18:11.785-07:00Legacy of Courage<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tonight, I sat down and began to write about how sick and tired I am of
rude people. Earlier, I posted on Facebook about the nasty cold bug that is
probably taking up residence in my nasal passage at this very moment…I also joined
a discussion about how unfair doctors’ office practices are…and then…I saw it, an announcement that stopped me in my tracks.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A beautiful lady that I have known since kindergarten lost
her battle with metastatic breast cancer 2 days ago. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For five and a half years she fought with everything she had. Through
chemo, radiation, and multiple surgeries she soldiered on, battling the disease while continuing to raise her family. A much stronger woman than I could *ever* hope to be, she gave
everything she had until there was nothing left - and then she gave more.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This courageous lady has left an indelible mark upon the
lives she touched while she lived among us on this Earth. She has given us an
example to follow and a goal to strive for. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Her two gorgeous babies and wonderfully supportive husband
will go forward knowing that they have a wealth of
wonderful memories that she worked diligently to create for them - her legacy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Sinuses , finances and the rude people of this world don’t
matter much when compared to the loss of a fellow human being.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are much bigger things in life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Family. Friends. Love. Joy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I love you”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“You are special to me”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Thank you”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
All those things have far more worth and resonate more
deeply within our spirits than all the rest jumbled together. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have opened my eyes - yet again - and realized the folly of my
thinking.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Thank you, Michelle, for showing us what it means to really
LIVE! For teaching us how to “Be the Bee”!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rest in Peace<o:p></o:p></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dmy1eZd048M/UP4AG3dLxbI/AAAAAAAAAHk/X8zoDADrdm8/s1600/Michelle_Martineau_Lake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dmy1eZd048M/UP4AG3dLxbI/AAAAAAAAAHk/X8zoDADrdm8/s200/Michelle_Martineau_Lake.jpg" width="156" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Michelle Lake<br />
4/25/1970-1/19/2013</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-91820171760227407072013-01-20T21:49:00.000-08:002013-01-20T21:50:25.963-08:00Reflection<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Every so often I have to slow down and take a moment to look
in a mirror. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m not talking about a cursory glance to check hair or
make-up, no…I mean looking into the depths of the reflection – into *who* I see
there.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Most of us focus on the *what* of our reflections – our
looks, signs of aging on our skin, clothing lines…but those things are not
important – not really.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
What matters most is seen only when we gaze deeply into our
own eyes – the window to our very soul.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was a point in my life when this was an uncomfortable exercise
for me. I couldn't look for long…I’d begin to squirm and a blush would begin to
creep across my cheeks. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Shame will do that to a person. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After years of hearing how wrong I was, how fat I was, how
useless and ungrateful I was…among other things…I had grown ashamed of myself. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Wait…that’s not entirely true…I was not ashamed of *myself* …my
True Self was always there, whole and waiting to be recognized…she had been
forced back, to cower in a dark corner – but she was there. I had learned shame
– shame of “self” that was being projected by the constant
reminders of the wrongness and imperfections within me. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
None of us is perfect – not one. However, we are not so
flawed that we cannot exist and thrive in the confines of this world – an imperfect
world for that matter.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Society goes out of its way to point out our flaws and
imperfections – in high definition on gigantic wide-screens with surround sound
& CG special effects…but we must remind ourselves that those are
superficial qualities. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our True Self lives at the core of our being – it cannot be
touched by “the world” and all its infectious hatred. Deep down you are exactly
as you were the day you entered this world – a true reflection of what YOU are
intended to be …with only gained knowledge added to the mix. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Only by gazing deeply into our own eyes can we grasp how
amazing this Self is. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first time I tried this little “self-awareness”
exercise I was in tears within a short while…I found that I wasn’t able to
pretend when connected to my Self…I had to face the music, deal with the
baggage I had allowed to accumulate and throw away the useless junk and
clutter. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After the housekeeping was done…I was amazed! I’m a pretty
neat person! =) No, really! I am! SO ARE YOU! You are an amazing, wonderful,
loving, lovable human being!! You were placed on this earth for a time – to learn
some lessons, to meet others, to love and be loved – and to pass on the wisdom
you gain alone the way.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This life is a Journey – the path is much smoother is we
connect with who we really are deep down. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Take a few moments to look in a mirror. Lean in. Lock eyes
with the person you see there. No pretense, no veils, just you and your True
Self. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Who do you see?<o:p></o:p></div>
~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-43969161861400230002013-01-08T13:46:00.000-08:002013-01-08T13:46:41.851-08:00It's Been a While<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">I haven't been able to write for a long time. It's very frustrating. I'm not exactly sure what the deal is, I just haven't been able to put coherent thoughts down on paper.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 14px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">The last time I wrote was the morning of a day that was going well. The sun was out, it was warm and I was on top of my game at work. That afternoon I learned that the job I'd held for the previous 4 years was being "eliminated".</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 14px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">Poof! Just like that. No warning.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">Something within me snapped. I helplessly cycled through all <a href="http://psychcentral.com/lib/2006/the-5-stages-of-loss-and-grief/" target="_blank">5 stages of grief</a> that weekend. The whole thing was such a shock to my system.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">Over the next several days, additional stressors arrived in my life (health issues with immediate family) to add to the already overwhelming reality of no job in the very near future.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">It was too much. Suddenly, I found myself short of breath while sitting still. My heart was pounding within my chest as if it needed to escape. My skin felt like it was crawling with electric currents. Tears would begin to fall with no warning. Bizarre sensations that consumed physical and emotional energy as well as my sanity. I soon learned that the sensations had a name: "Panic Attack."</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">For the first time in my life I was put on medications to balance out chemicals in my brain that used to regulate themselves. I have a bottle of pills in my purse - just in case the panic comes back at an inconvenient moment. I meet with a professional several times each month to work through the issues that all this stress has brought to the surface.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">Funny...I've been through some serious shit in my life: Emotional/verbal abuse, nasty divorce, the lies of a con-man and raising kids by myself while struggling financially....not once did I fall to pieces like I did this time.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">When I step back and consider this odd reaction I come to an interesting conclusion - this is the first time in my life that I don't *have* to be strong - I finally have someone I can lean on. Yes, I have always had a fabulous family and amazing friends but I'm talking about the kind of "leaning" that requires complete trust and absolute assurance that there will be no condemnation, no backlash and 100% support, no matter what. The kind of support one gets from a partner, a soul-mate - the other-half of yourself.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">In the past I was not allowed to fall apart. I had no choice but to keep it together and be strong. If I fell to pieces there would be consequences - for me and for my kids. I could vent to my family and friends and they did what they could to ease the load I carried - but I was never truly allowed to just "let go" – to show weakness.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">This time, I have someone who is standing WITH me, someone who SHARES the responsibilities of this house with me...someone who does not seek out flaws to point them out with malice...someone who loves me for who I am. Period.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">This time - I was safe, protected, surrounded by love.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 14px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">It was perfectly OK for me to sit and cry if I needed to. I was allowed to verbalize my fears and to give in to the need for comfort from someone else.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 14px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 14px;">SIGH! I never knew it could be like this!</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 14px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; line-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Although this journey is not over - I am still looking for a new job - I have been given a gift...the silver-lining of this dark cloud...I have been given time. Time to spend with my grandparents, my children, my man...time to get things done around the house that have gone undone for far too long...time to create...time to take care of me...time to just "be" and focus on the things that really matter.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 14px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; line-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">For the things I have learned, the blessings gained, I am grateful. Someday I will look back on this time and shake my head...but for now, I look forward to the lessons to come, the gifts awaiting me in the future.</span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 14px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="color: #222222; line-height: 14px;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Would you look at that?! I wrote something!! =)</span></span></div>
<br />
~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-27219646900483307782012-08-10T10:39:00.001-07:002012-08-10T10:40:39.872-07:00If you really knew me...<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
You'd know that I have never lived alone.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’d know that I have a voicemail on my phone from my Nana that
I refuse to delete because I want to have her voice somewhere “just in case”.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’d know I still have my “blankie” safely put away in my
closet – for emergencies.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’d know I am overly critical of myself and have a tendency
to be a perfectionist – this makes doing things l love (crafts, baking, writing)
more stressful than they need to be.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’d know I still care too much about what other people think.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’d know that I’ve seen every episode of “Sex in the City”
and I hate that Big’s real name is John.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’d know that if I had the room I’d have rescued animals
everywhere.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’d know that I believe in “ghosts” and have seen a few.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’d know that I have a bit of a sixth sense and sometimes ‘know
things’ I shouldn't.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You'd know that I watch movies I like over and over...until I can quote them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You'd know that I work movie/TV quotes into regular conversation on a daily basis.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’d know that I believe in God but hate what humankind has
done to religion.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’d know that I am horrible at taking my own advice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You'd know that I find my Zen when I crochet.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You'd know that I have a hard time allowing others to do things for me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’d know that when my children are happy it makes me cry.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’d know that I am not comfortable in my own skin most of
the time.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’d know that I am a sucker for romance novels…especially
if they have good sex scenes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’d know that I love to be swept off my feet. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’d know that I feel guilty when I treat myself to things
like massages and pedicures.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’d know that it takes a lot to get me to go to an event
by myself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’d know that I have a hard time throwing things away – I might
need them some day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
You’d know that I am often afraid to speak my mind because I
am afraid…of what might happen if you really knew me.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
[This fabulous idea was borrowed from <a href="http://callgirldesigns.blogspot.com/2012/08/if-you-really-knew-me.html" target="_blank">this post that I found through my Twitter feed.</a>]<o:p></o:p></div>~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-88022553132828228722012-08-03T19:39:00.000-07:002012-08-03T19:47:19.809-07:00That Thing with Feathers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
I don't know when it happened. Can't even pinpoint it with generalities (well, actually, I probably can…but that’s beside the point).<br />
<br />
All I know is that one day it was gone.<br />
<br />
I woke up one morning and could not find my Hope, my sense of Awesome-ness.<br />
<br />
Look at this face:<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5huaxS_2JNw/UByDL-8Pk0I/AAAAAAAAAFs/GIJe_L_6qKE/s1600/kissingcaleb.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5huaxS_2JNw/UByDL-8Pk0I/AAAAAAAAAFs/GIJe_L_6qKE/s320/kissingcaleb.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
That face is full of Hope – overflowing with Awesome. The owner of that face can accomplish anything he wants, whenever he wants - and nobody can tell him any different. He is talented, smart, handsome and invincible.<br />
<br />
He still has his Hope.<br />
<br />
Many moons ago I was the same way.<br />
<br />
I liked to sing - so I sang - all the time, no matter where I was or who I was with. Made up new words to go with popular songs on the radio. Heck, I even taped my “hit songs” (seriously, I wrote “My hit song: xyz” on the cassette labels – aaaand I just aged myself…eh, who cares?) so I could share them with my Nana and whomever else would listen to them. Even composed a song about peanut butter and jelly sandwiches - for real.<br />
<br />
My parents bought me a marionette for Christmas one year - I loved it. As my puppet collection grew my grandparents built me a puppet stage - so I put on shows. My brother, friends and cousins always got roped into participating. I wrote skits for us to perform giving them roles that I created especially for them – and then the adults were made to sit in rows of dining room chairs to watch our “performance.” I even made up tickets - they had to give us their ticket or they couldn't see the show. Those were the rules.<br />
<br />
During the Holidays when family got together I was the kid with the “great ideas” for how to get everyone involved in the Thankfulness Celebration. I made goofy hats for everyone and orchestrated the “go around the table so everyone can share one thing they are thankful for” activity.
<br />
<br />
When my parents went to “adult parties” I did everything in my power to tag along…because I was addicted to adult conversation. As far as I knew – I held my own – the adults all said I was “very grown up” =) Adult conversation was much more interesting than just talking to my friends.<br />
<br />
This one time (go ahead...say it) I called into a local talk radio show late one night while my babysitter prayed that my parents weren’t listening in their car. It was cool! The host even sent me a certificate in the mail for being his “youngest caller” (still have it – shit you not).<br />
<br />
I had no fear, no shame and an abundant font of enthusiasm for things that made me happy. There was no worrying about what other people thought or the “what ifs”…I just ran with it.<br />
<br />
Then it happened.<br />
<br />
Suddenly (or at least that's how it seems to me) you couldn’t pay me to get up in front of a room full of people. My knees began to shake uncontrollably if anyone was listening to me sing (and no freakin’ way was I going to record my voice – singing or speaking). Perform? As in…on a stage? Not. Gonna. Happen.<br />
<br />
And then…I gave up my dreams for someone else’s. Worst of all? I gave up my power – for a lot of years.<br />
<br />
There were some dark times during those years. Times when I didn’t think I would EVER be truly happy again.<br />
<br />
BUT!! In the beautiful words of Emily Dickinson:<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Hope</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Hope is the thing with feathers </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>That perches in the soul, </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>And sings the tune--without the words, </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>And never stops at all,</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>And sweetest in the gale is heard; </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>And sore must be the storm </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>That could abash the little bird </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>That kept so many warm.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>I've heard it in the chillest land, </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>And on the strangest sea; </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>Yet, never, in extremity, </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><i>It asked a crumb of me.</i></span><br />
<br />
Hope sang her song. On those coldest nights in those darkest places she sang.<br />
<br />
She sang LOUD and she sang STRONG and she NEVER. GAVE. UP!!<br />
<br />
When the storms were raging and I couldn’t hear her sing she wrapped her wings around me and waited.<br />
<br />
Then….<br />
<br />
One day I realized that somewhere deep within my grown-up, sorry self was that awesome little girl that used to write puppet skits and sing “hit songs” that she wrote into her cassette recorder.<br />
<br />
That realization was the first step toward reclaiming my dream…the second step was going after it.<br />
<br />
Then Hope put me in the midst of a bunch of other Awesome People who fed my hunger for the Awesome-ness that I was lacking…until I had it all back!<br />
<br />
That was the beginning of The Beginning!<br />
<br />
Hope gave me the strength to take back my Power and take charge of my life in a very real way.<br />
<br />
I got stronger with every passing day.<br />
<br />
Now, I can sing (if you count Karaoke) in front of folks with only minimal knee shakeage…still working on being ok with hearing my voice on tape (I’ll get there – it has been suggested that I try doing voice-overs...eh…we’ll see). I still make up words to songs…usually about my kids and/or dogs. Dogs don't criticize - usually. The kids just roll their eyes and tolerate my silliness.<br />
<br />
Traded in the puppet skits for blogging – although, I the puppet stage is in my garage and my mom has the marionettes.<br />
<br />
Rather than organizing “activities” for gatherings I now prefer to cook for them…I specialize in food-coma-induction…and I’m not terrible at desserts either – just sayin’.<br />
<br />
The face in the photo back at the top? That’s my grandson. Now that I have my Hope back and have reclaimed my Awesome-ness I can fully enjoy him - and his sister (the kisser in that pic) – I can be goofy with them and serve ice cream for dinner (but only if they are going home with mommy and daddy after) and quote Disney flicks all day long and just BE! No boundaries, no limits.<br />
<br />
Bottomline? Like the poem says – Hope “never stops at all” – she is there, forever and always. She patiently waits for you to accept her nudges, listen to her song and open your heart to welcome back the Awesome that has always been yours – you just forgot it was there.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ksXiMw9vuz8/UByGMYOw48I/AAAAAAAAAF8/RzYtYMbKFGI/s1600/hope-2012.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ksXiMw9vuz8/UByGMYOw48I/AAAAAAAAAF8/RzYtYMbKFGI/s320/hope-2012.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Now it is your turn! I have <a href="http://melaniecrutchfield.com/2012/07/27/hope-2012-a-blog-relay/">passed the baton</a> to you. Hope is real. Hope is alive. Share your Hope with someone who needs it...you won't be sorry.~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-82042678348934493002012-08-01T21:12:00.000-07:002012-08-01T21:12:55.719-07:00Migraines Suck!<br />
There is no other way to say it. Migraines suck donkey balls.<br />
<br />
They involve intense pain, light sensitivity, noise sensitivity and a strong desire to be allowed to curl up in a ball - and die.<br />
<br />
I suffered my first migraine headache when I was 22-years-old. It hit while I was at a family reunion - in Las Vegas...yeah, I'm *that* lucky.<br />
<br />
The pain and pressure in my head grew until I was paying homage to the porcelain god while my mother held my waist-length hair back for me. All I could think was “Thank GAWD my mommy is here right now.”<br />
<br />
My head hurt so bad by the second day I remember asking for something sharp so I could poke a hole in it to let the pressure "drain out" - for real! Said it out loud to a room full of people.<br />
<br />
After a not-so-wonderful experience at a Vegas medical facility I flew home early to seek treatment at “my hospital” with people I knew and trusted.<br />
<br />
I was referred to a specialist who operated under the assumption that I had either suffered viral meningitis (since my neck had been uber painful during the peak of the headache) or I had just suffered my first migraine. Since the pain meds essentially knocked out the headache after a couple doses I was thinking migraine (they do run in my family afterall) but he kept me out of work for several weeks – looking back I realize he must have been thinking meningitis (however, the only symptom I had that matched that diagnosis was the neck pain).<br />
<br />
From that point forward I suffered severe headaches – only a few have been “as bad as the first one” but all of them are awful.<br />
<br />
But…it wasn't until last year that I finally received the official diagnosis of "migraine headache". After 20 years of dealing with headaches so intense that they often cause me to wish for death while curled up in the fetal position, crying, someone finally listened.<br />
<br />
During those years I had one doctor call them "tension headaches" (he prescribed stress-reduction to ease them). Another labeled them "cluster headaches" (and blamed my allergies for the pain). One doc even told me I was missing the sinus cavities above my eyes and claimed that was the reason for the pain (but they are there and he offered no solutions – so I found a new doctor immediately). All of them suggested wimpy non-narcotic treatments for me at various times - but not one used the word migraine.<br />
<br />
Because none of the doctors I saw would address the real issue at hand, I became a hoarder of pain meds. Whenever I had an illness or procedure that warranted a prescription for pain meds I ALWAYS kept the leftovers for my headaches. The BEST treatment, I had discovered, was to take 1/2 of a pain pill (more than that would cause increased nausea) and sleep - in a dark room, with an icepack on the back of my neck.<br />
<br />
I also learned to recognize the difference between a "headache" and a "migraine" fairly quickly. Occasionally, if I caught it early enough, a fist-full of ibuprofen and a couple caffeine-laced headache pills would stop it - but not always.<br />
<br />
Over the years I have missed a lot of work because of my headaches - but it wasn't until last October (right after I was finally diagnosed) that someone asked me why I didn't have an "Intermittent Medical Leave of Absence" on file because of them.<br />
<br />
A what?!<br />
<br />
Turns out it's a medical certification that protects people who suffer from chronic illness (like migraine headaches) from loss of employment due to excessive absences.<br />
<br />
Fabulous! Why didn't anyone think I needed to know about this sooner???<br />
<br />
The sequence of events that precipitated the whole "why don't you have one" conversation went down like this: I woke up one morning with jackhammers going off in my brain and tears sliding down my cheeks. I suffered in silence for a bit - praying it would just stop…or I would die…whichever was quickest - when that didn't work, I woke my Hunny up and begged him to take me to Urgent Care - and he did.<br />
<br />
The folks at the Urgent Care were wonderful! The guy that checked me in spoke softly, the nurse in triage did too. When I got into a room they turned the lights off for me. *sigh* The doctor said "migraines suck" (softly) as we reviewed treatment options. He treated me with several medications & slapped on some high-flow oxygen for good measure (I had to Google it - it did help). My discharge paperwork said "Migraine headache" on it.<br />
<br />
This was huge.<br />
<br />
When I left Urgent Care my pain was down to a 4 from a 9 (out of 10). I stayed home from work that day and the next.<br />
<br />
Then, less than 2 weeks later, it happened again - only this time I was throwing up too. Not cool!!<br />
<br />
I decided to skip Urgent Care and try for a visit with my regular doctor. I called as soon as they opened. They squeezed me into the schedule and I saw her about 9am. I was adequately medicated, home and asleep within an hour.<br />
<br />
My doctor diagnosed me with a migraine - actually added it to my chart right under "asthma" and "environmental allergies" - and wrote me two prescriptions: one, a known migraine treatment and the other an anti-nausea medication - just in case…<br />
<br />
FINALLY! I had an official diagnosis and was receiving appropriate treatment.<br />
<br />
I missed 2 days of work (doctor's orders), again.<br />
<br />
As I explained the latest tale in the headache/missing work saga to my BFF (who just happens to work in HR) she asked me why I didn't have the medical certification on file at my work...then she cursed herself repeatedly and said "OMG!! I cannot believe I didn't think to tell you about this sooner! Actually, your HR should have contacted you and asked if there was a chronic illness behind so many sick-days, but that's beside the point! SHIT! I am so sorry! You need to get an Intermittent Leave on file ASAP!"<br />
<br />
So I did.<br />
<br />
Having that little piece of paper on file that says I suffer from a real condition (one that causes me to be incapacitated and unable to function properly at times) and gives me some lee-way with work absences is a god-send. I cannot tell you how much weight it has taken off my shoulders!<br />
<br />
But...the greatest relief by far (after suffering with severe headache pain for 20 years and being given the run-around by the medical establishment) is hearing a doctor finally call my headaches exactly what they are - migraines.<br />
<br />
I knew I wasn’t making this shit up!<br />~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-2528854119506794842012-07-26T22:22:00.001-07:002012-07-26T22:25:06.499-07:00Abracadabra<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Can’t think of anything to write about…again. Either there’s
nothing there or I’m being incredibly lazy. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’m leaning toward “lazy”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It seems I would much rather just sit here watching a
movie that I’ve already seen and let my brain turn to mush than force it to
formulate something witty to post on this blog.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Basically, I am coming up with excuses…too tired, my
foot hurts, have the whole weekend to write, worked hard today, blah, blah,
blah….instead of blogging.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Too lazy to think of something creative and yummy to
cook for dinner as well – so I had some of the potato salad that I made last night…then
I steamed the corn-on-the-cob that we bought last weekend (before it goes bad) and had
that too (there may be some butter smudges on my keyboard - I'll have to check that later). <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While I was making my “dinner” I spent some time chatting with Emma…our black lab…as she attentively watched me wander around the kitchen. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I asked her why I couldn’t come up with anything fantabulous
to write about - Emma didn’t really have much to say about that – she just blinked her sad,
blinky, Lab eyes at me and licked her chops while glancing in the general
direction of my plate.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pretty sure she was hoping I’d drop something that she could
scarf up…I didn’t – so I just gave her a bite. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The waggy tail led me to believe
she was grateful… now she’s whining for more. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
She’s not really supposed to be
eating “people food.” Oops. What can I say? I’m a sucker for the blinky, sad Lab eyes.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After eating my make-shift meal (and hollering at Emma to quit whining already!) I decided: enough is enuff! I promised myself that I would stop making excuses and just write. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe...just maybe...if I simply start writing down random stuffs a blog post will magically appear…and guess
what?! It worked! =)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-4014622262894450812012-07-25T22:04:00.000-07:002012-07-25T22:04:01.522-07:00Behave Yourself!<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
“May God bless you, and remember to be Christians in the
parking lot.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For several years’ worth of Sundays this was the closing line of the senior pastor at the church I attended. It was (still is actually) a pretty big church.
Some might even call it a “mega church.” There were always a lot of cars in that parking lot.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first time I heard the pastor say this I giggled…much like the
other newbies in the crowd that day...but then we filed out of the sanctuary and
began the battle to get out of the freaking parking lot and on the road safely! Insanity!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Even after an hour-plus-long worship service it seemed that many
were unclear on the concept of “being a Christian.” All the trappings of
courtesy and common sense seemed to vanish as the masses maneuvered their 2,000 pound assault vehicles out of parking spaces and into the lanes of traffic headed toward the exits. It was behavior more suited to a rock concert venue than a Church Parking Lot.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There was no mercy – even for the elderly and handicapped.
After several hair-raising Sunday 'adventures' we took to enjoying a cup (or 3)
of coffee while waiting out the parking lot melee. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It has been many years since I've had to endure a Sunday morning in a "Christian Parking Lot". That's a long story worthy of its own post...perhaps some other time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tonight, I was reminded (and not in a good way) of those
dodgy Sunday mornings as I drove past one of the rather large churches in my
neighborhood (there are a few). Someone leaving the church parking lot rudely cut
someone off and then turned right on red when they did not have a clear lane. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was the moment they careened toward a near-collision that
I saw it. The brand-new bumper sticker, affixed to the rear window of the car,
identifying them as a member of the aforementioned neighborhood place of worship. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
SIGH.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I've endured entire sermons devoted to the concept of “walking
the walk” and behaving yourself - especially when you have stickers/emblems/signs on your
vehicle that ID you as a “Christian”. These sermons implored the faithful to “set a good example” for
the World to follow. The person I saw tonight, obviously, has not had the
benefit of one of those sermons. Such a shame.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As I continued down the road toward completion of this
evening’s errand I had to giggle to myself. There was a very good reason I
never put one of those “fish symbols” or “WWJD” stickers on my car(s) over the
years…I didn’t want to *HAVE TO* behave myself if some asshole cut me off on
the freeway! I know, I know, it's twisted logic...but it's <i>my</i> logic. <o:p></o:p></div>~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-44899882167570461762012-07-24T21:54:00.001-07:002012-07-24T22:01:20.126-07:00The Parking Lot<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
It never fails! I seem to think of all kinds of stuff to write
about when I am at work. It’s not like I can just stop working and start
writing (well, not really anyway) so I had to come up with a way to get those
ideas and thoughts down on paper for later use.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Lucky for me I work for a company that uses and teaches the
Six Sigma management strategy. I was
sent to the training a couple years ago. Among the strategies and tricks was
the concept of the Parking Lot. A piece of paper kept handy during meetings to
jot down stray ideas and topics that come up for later review.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I found an old legal pad with only a few pages left on it
and decided it would be my Blog Parking Lot. I’ve been jotting stuff down ever
since I got back from vacation. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I get all excited about the ideas and look forward to writing
and fleshing them out…and then, at the end of an 8 or 9 hour day, I arrive at
home and immediately crumple into a heap of exhaustion. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So far I have two full sheets of yellow paper filled (front
and back) with totally awesome ideas (no, really…they are awesome – I checked)…and
not a single post to show for it. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
SIGH<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My brain goes a mile-a-minute when I’m not supposed to be
writing for personal use but as soon as I have the time and am able…nothing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s maddening really. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have a quote on my desk at work: “You don’t find the time
to write – you make time” ~Nora Roberts<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is my goal…make time each day to work on the ideas and
thoughts that float around in my brain all day every day. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A couple weeks ago I suggested that someone write about the
very thing that was causing them to suffer writer’s block…so tonight I took my
own advice – for once. <o:p></o:p></div>~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-43861299606076262582012-07-12T20:24:00.000-07:002012-07-24T21:59:22.554-07:00Gonna Leave a MarkWe went shooting today.<br />
<br />
Target shooting waaaay out in the country on my Hunny’s Aunt’s land.<br />
<br />
I’m a decent shot…but today, I made a stupid error in hand position and ended up with wads of tissue and a paper towel wrapped around my left thumb to stop a fresh ‘slide bite’ from bleeding. Such an idiot.<br />
<br />
The injury to my ego was more painful than the wound itself.<br />
<br />
Damn thing bled and bled…I could NOT figure out why it wouldn’t stop bleeding…and then I remembered… I have been taking a baby aspirin every day for about three months (because of the <a href="http://onejourneyblog.blogspot.com/2012/04/stairs-suck.html">injury to my foot</a>). Dammit!<br />
<br />
Eventually got the bleeding stopped, created a fresh “field dressing” and got back to the shootin’.<br />
<br />
The paper target I was aiming at is officially dead.<br />
<br />
When we got back to where we are staying I realized just how sore my dang thumb is gonna be. Freaking ow!<br />
<br />
Removed the make-shift dressing, washed my hands, poured perioxide over the wound (EEEEEEOOOOOW!) then sealed it with liquid bandage (that shit stings BTW) before using a butterfly to hold it together (sometimes being a nurse comes in "handy").<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_FOrCGq2oE4/T_-Qm1-yyLI/AAAAAAAAAD8/IkpJ5aqfqlU/s1600/SLIDEBITE.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="166" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_FOrCGq2oE4/T_-Qm1-yyLI/AAAAAAAAAD8/IkpJ5aqfqlU/s320/SLIDEBITE.jpg" width="124" /></a><br />
<br />
About the time I needed to open the jar of liquid bandage I realized that I use my left thumb a helluva lot more than I realized. Actually, I tend to use both hands to complete many tasks throughout the day. *SIGH* (Luckily, I use my right thumb for the space bar and, therefore, can type with relatively no pain *wink*.)<br />
<br />
Needless to say my Hunny has earned some serious points this evening!<br />
<br />
He has helped me with a ton of little things that elicited a sharp intake of breath or a muttered “Ouch dammit!” Helped me secure a glove over my hand so I could shower without compromising my new dressing and helped me wash the grit and gunpowder off too!<br />
<br />
He even washed my hair! *Happy SIGH*<br />
<br />
Yep! Definitely keeping him!~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2023286047883195204.post-33428742990544414882012-06-23T15:57:00.000-07:002012-07-24T22:20:33.106-07:00This Much is True<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first time I danced with my Hunny I was 13 and he was
14. The song was “True” by Spandau Ballet and we were in my friend Patty’s back
yard – it was an 8<sup>th</sup> grade graduation party. Our first kiss happened
when we were both 15 (took him long enough!). <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our relationship was on-again-off-again over the course of a
couple years during high school. I broke up with him for the last time my junior
year because there was a boy at school I liked – and my Hunny, it seemed, was
always on restriction – we never, ever got to see each other. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I saw him again – in passing – when I was 21, married and a
new mom. I was Christmas shopping at Target – he was the front-end manager
there. We said a brief hello then he had to get back to work.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fast forward a bunch of years (about 20). No longer married
and exploring the world of social media I did a search for him on Facebook. Of
course, since his name happens to be very common there were a gazillion matches.
I looked through several pages before I gave up – no one looked like the boy I
remembered.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then it happened. One morning as I settled into work I got a
notification on my smart phone that I had a new friend request on FB…it was
him!! I let out an audible squeal followed by a too-loud-for-work “No fucking
way!!” He looked EXACTLY the same. Of course, I immediately clicked on “accept” and sent a message that
said “NO WAY! How the heck have you been?!” He answered an hour or so later.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
****</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I danced with My Hunny again when we were both 40 – we were
in my kitchen and the song was “True” by Spandau Ballet. When we kissed again, after
so many years, it was exactly as we remembered – I wondered aloud how it was possible
that he even "tasted" the same. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It is as if our love was always there – waiting for us to
reconnect – as if our souls were connected even when our bodies were apart. Perhaps
we had lessons we had to learn before we could be happy together. Corny? Maybe.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So what - it feels real to us. I read a book once where the
souls of two lovers found each other in every manifestation of their lives – no
matter what the time period – and they always recognized each other…maybe that’s
how it is with my Hunny and me? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Doesn’t matter either way…he loves me more than cake =)<o:p></o:p></div>~Shellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02823196949606604050noreply@blogger.com2