Remembering and not...

Three decades ago, I could work magic with my beloved Minolta X-700.  I cherished that camera, investing all my money into lenses and such.  My niece once broke a $500 zoom lens and I about near killed her.  It is not as if I ever let children play with my baby.  That sneaky little squirt snuck into my room, picked up the lens as I was working on the camera and promptly dropped it.  Up until that moment, I did not know lens barrels could break and leave the glass ends intact.

Today, I played around with my camera whilst sitting on the couch ... trying to ignore the pain in my chest.  The I-am-certain-is-only-a-new-nerve-pain pain in my chest that just happens to be isolated exactly where my heart is.

It frustrates me that whilst I did go from this:

to this:

I have no idea how to replicate it.

I have 38 shots, changing aperture and shutter speed and film speed, and sort of thought I was getting the hang of how to take a photo without flash in the dark, but honestly, I cannot really say that I learned (or rather re-learned) a single thing.

And—darn it—I realized that I have no clue where my tripod is.  How could that possibly be?  How could I have moved so very far away from something that I used to love?

There is (or was??) a permanent exhibit of mine in Columbus, Ohio.  There are (or were??) several textbooks with my photos.  There are (or were) several offices with my photos hanging on the wall.  I don't really count all the brochures and flyers and annual reports and newsletters and special events collateral that have my photos in them because the non-profits for which I worked couldn't afford to hire photographers.  But I used to have a small skill in which I took great pleasure.

For your enjoyment, here is the photo I tried to take of the still-hanging-around hummingbird:

He is that smudge on the thinner wire just after it crosses before the tree.  You see, I forgot that one of the reasons that I loved this little camera was that it had a manual zoom (I am a zoomaholic and loathe automatic zoom buttons) AND manual focus.  Of course, to be fair to myself, I am not all that certain I could have used the manual focus—not because I have yet to get to that section of the instruction manual I have finally gotten around to reading years later—since my eyesight is poor at best and rather dysfunctional when the blurred or double vision has taken over my eyeballs.  Still, this would have been my best shot (pun intended) to date at capture him.

I thought he had left, but he buzzed about me for a bit tonight.  I am worried, to be honest.  His two companions are long gone.  Could he be a yearling who doesn't know about heading South?

By late last night, I had worked out a rationing plan for the Gatorade, so that I did not have to go out today.  I was so afraid of the work it takes to get me out the door and then to remain upright whilst tending to the things needing done that I decided it was just too much.  I have bills to pay and a visit on Thursday that is putting a strain in my mind and my feelings.  I have insurance battles to fight.  I have a door to prime and paint.  I have a puppy to bathe (his hair and nails are cut and his ears detangled).  I have laundry to do.  I have a quaking being just now.  So, with three weeks until my next appointment, I thought surely another few days wouldn't matter.

But upon waking today, I forced myself to dress and haul myself out the door.  I went to the lab. I went to Lowe's. [I remembered to use my $10 coupon at Lowe's.]  I went to Wal-Mart.  [I bought two cans of Gatorade mix so that when the first one empties, I will not be forced to go out if I am not yet ready.]  And I actually remembered that Amos' food bag was nearly empty and so turned back to Petsmart before leaving the shopping center parking lot.

The woman at the lab, who usually serves as the paperwork coordinator, did one of the best sticks I have ever have.  Just going is an exercise in advocating for myself.  You see, I am a horrible arm stick. Three or four attempts is the norm, plus rather large, rather ugly bruises for days and days and days.  But a few years ago, while having an all-day-multi-blood-draw session at a lab, half way through the shift changed and the new girl took only look at my arms and asked if she could do my hand.  She showed me how with the band placed around my right forearm, all these lovely veins pop right up!

I nearly kissed her.
I did weep.

Even armed with the GREAT SECRET, it took me a long while to start asking for hand draws.  And then it took me a lot longer to insist on them for those who didn't want to do them.  Even a poor hand draw is much, much less painful than many arm sticks AND I have never had more than a single stick at one go.  On the days when I have had multiple draws again, I didn't even have to switch hands because there are so very many lovely veins popping up in my hand.

Today, when I asked for a hand draw, there was no arguing (this is rare at that lab).  I felt so comfortable and not a bother at all.  Of course, the other testing I have to do (which involves home kits) embarrassed me so much that I had trouble putting two words together when trying to prove that I understood what to do so I could flee (hobble out the door).  Maybe I will tackle those next week.  SIGH.

I read this article last night.  It is about a new approach in research regarding helping people face fear.  It has to do with having scents associated with specific fears around whilst the participants slept.  I found this odd and intriguing.

You see, I do not believe in aromatherapy.  I just don't.  Not at all.  Only, well, I now use a specific type of rose beeswax candle to help soothe me when I am distressed. I use lavender and peppermint essential oils to help with headaches and migraines.  And I use to different lotions before I go to bed if I am having a particularly difficult evening.  One is a lavender one from my best friend Becky that makes me feel as if she is here, and the other is this ridiculously expensive lotion that I got as samples from someone who regularly flies first class, that is a combination of honey, bergamot, and lavender.  Having such strong scents on my hands when I am going to sleep helps me have few nightmares and night terrors.  Reading the article, I wondered if I should ask my next visitor to slip in an open bottle/can of beer after I fall asleep to see if that would help me with that particular trigger.


I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!