For the past two years, I have had this line of ants that ran from the back door, up the wall, across the counter to the sink. I have had tried numerous types of bait and have personally killed millions to no avail. Because they only stayed for a few months, I tried to ignore them and keep the sink absolutely clean during their visit.

Well, two weeks ago, they showed up...four months early! I couldn't believe their audacity and was not looking forward to the battle, so I set out to win the war.

While picking up the door locks that were being keyed, I asked a Lowe's guy to show me what was a sure fire ant killer. He pointed to this can of innocuous looking dust for his recommendation. Two days ago, I rather blithely spread out a rather generous sprinkling over the two mounds I found in the yard and all around the door frame. It was a beautiful evening, and I didn't mind the work with a fresh breeze blowing.

However...

...I did not read the can first.

1. It is highly poisonous with three different numbers to call in case of exposure.
2. I was to wear gloves, long sleeves, and long pants.
3. I was to wash my clothing immediately after application.
4. I was to avoid using it if there was wind.


Last night, I spent quite a bit of time trying to minimize my exposure as I tried to minimize the spread of white powder in the places Kashi and I regularly tread.


There are no ants at my sink.

If I had a greater salary, I would:

get a massage each week

use a thermacare heatwrap each day

have a trainer work on stretching spastic muscles

always have blooming flowers around me

never eat canned food again

I am ever so closer to finishing my mother's website and getting her brochure done. It is strange, I am helping a friend with a brochure for her new business, and our interactions have not been tension filled with yelling on her part...the total opposite of my most recent experience of trying to help someone out!

Habitat for Humanity is coming to pick up the furnace on Friday (though for a fleeting moment I thought I was going to be able to give it to a friend whose furnace just broke). I picked up my locks and keys yesterday, since the Lowe's person had them all keyed the same. In four years, I have never had a key to the back door. Having one will be a luxury. The door should arrive in another week or so, and my front door will finally be secure. House progress for once.

When I did go by Lowe's, it was a battle to walk past all the lovely gardening stock. I really, really would like to add a few items to my yard, but with $4,300 unexpected debt between the HVAC and the door, I can't even afford to think about it. Last summer, I promised myself I would redo the side bed in the corner of the fence because the seedums had grown completely out of control. While the heavy weeding job did wonders, it is still lacking a certain something, even with the hostas peeking up from the ground. It is a good think that Mr. Handyman will be picking up the door!

I have knocked a few things out at work, responding to yet more last-minute-requests-from-poor-planning. I have scanned more of my grandmother's old family photo collection (this project is WAY more work than I had anticipated). I did my laundry this weekend, despite sleeping away most of it.

Yet...I haven't worked on my novels at all. So, despite being legitimately productive, I feel as if I have missed the most important part: doing that which is so satisfying to me, that which defines me.


NOTE: I read two letters and "opened" another present from my friend's goody package. The present made me chuckle all evening. It was a small game that was obviously a "prize" from a kid's meal. Do you see what I mean about knowing that she is thinking about me while out and about in her life? I really, really like games and here's one I could tuck in a pocket and pull out anytime I found an unsuspecting person I could ambush into playing with me. Such love God has showered upon me through her!

NOTE 2: Speaking of games, when I went to paint my best friend's house a few weekend's ago, she had a few "welcome" gifts for me. One was so great I could hardly speak. A while ago, while shopping with her, we bought those new H2O Uno cards. They are clear and plastic and just a bit too cool. We definitely enjoyed playing with them in Italy, even if shuffling them takes a bit getting used to. I also already owned a set of regular playing cards that I had actually bought for a little girl since they have pink and purple polka dots on them, but ended up keeping since they came in a plastic case. It is so easy to carry them about to whip out for a quick game. Well, my dearest friend gifted me with a new set of regular playing cards...clear plastic...in a plastic case to boot. Joy runneth over!

Got a Chase credit card? Be afraid...very afraid.

I had a new card arrive in the mail, which puzzled me. I had not asked for one, nor was my current one expired. So, I called customer service. After being on hold for 29 minutes, I got a representative who informed me that a card was sent to an alternative address and I must have gotten one as well as a courtesy measure since my address was on the account.

Red flag, eh? I thought so. I immediately informed her that I did not make a request for a new card to be sent somewhere and I asked for her to read me the address. I half thought that she would read my address and this would end up being some sort of customer representative misinformation since half of the time I encounter anyone in customer service it seems like I know more about the practices and procedures of their company than he/she does.

She told me that she could not give me that information, but she could transfer me to Chase's fraud department. But before she would transfer me, she made me listen to her pitch for Chase's fraud protection program for the bargain price, I believe, of $7.95 a month. I was appalled at her timing.

I had more waiting on hold to do before the fraud department representative came on the line. Then...are you ready for this? Then, the man asked me to confirm identifying information about which of three counties in which I recently resided. Now, I really, until now, have known zip about the counties in which I live. I know the one now because it is infamous for its taxes, and my checkbook is intimately acquainted with each and every contribution that goes to this county. So, I couldn't answer his question. Then he tried cities, but I didn't understand what he was saying because they were all in another state. I kept asking him to ask me something about myself...my social security number, my security question, anything about me! But he insisted that I need to answer his questions. And then he final hinted that the questions were about my step-father.

I grew quite angry that this man would even know my step-father's name and when I said so, he replied that all his information was merely a part of "my public record."

Do you know where I am going yet?

Public record? I still cannot fathom how you would get to my step-father unless you went to my birth certificate, got my mother's name, looked at her current marriage license and got his name.

I refused to answer the questions, and so he accused me of being the fraudulent person. He kept saying that if I were who I claimed to be I could answer the questions. At that point, I got really upset and asked to speak with a supervisor. He responded that if I would just calm down and answer his questions then this would all be over. Again, I said that I was not going to answer personal questions about someone else. I was my own person, the account was my own, and that his questions should stick to the application I filled out to open the account.

And then...have you figured it out?

And then he said that the questions were about me; they were from my file. CHASE HIRES A THIRD PARTY COMPANY TO COMPILE PERSONAL INFORMATION ABOUT ITS CUSTOMERS UNDER THE GUISE OF IDENTIFYING THEM IN CASE OF FRAUD.

I insisted again on speaking with a supervisor because I had never heard of something so invasive. He, again, kept saying that the file was maintained by the third party company, that it was all a part of public record, and that Chase only used the information for my protection. What a load of crap.

After my third or fourth demand, he finally put me on hold to wait for his supervisor. The long hold gave me pause during which the ramifications of what Chase was doing sank in: this company practice was to put personal identify information together with financial information! I mean really...what information did Chase give the third party company to identify me so that it could begin building my file? My name? That alone would work because I am not the only person out there with my name? Chase had to give that company at least two pieces of information about me...and now that company knows I have an account with Chase. Chase is practically inviting people to steal the identities of its customers!

The first question the supervisor asked was the last four digits of my social security number, so I thought things were going to go better, but I was wrong. He then muttered something about finding another question for me to answer and asked for some of the other cities in which I have lived. Now, Chase has only had two addresses for me in the same city. Of course, I could also have given the schools where I got my degrees!

I finally gave the answers to the city questions, only to discover that the first customer representative was wrong. It was actually Chase's marketing department that requested that another card be sent to me for reasons undetermined.

I really, really cannot believe this practice of hiring a third party to investigate the background of customers, especially one who pays on time and does not carry a balance. My step-father's life is none of their business. My personal life is none of their business. All that should matter to them is my credit history and my payment record. Period.

I want to call CNN. I want to shove this story in front of 60 minutes. I wish I were Net savvy enough to plaster it all over the Internet...chat rooms and watch dog sites galore. I want the whole world to know how snoopy and sneaky and completely nosy Chase is. I want to know that they are unprofessional and slimy, hiding behind the specious excuses that "their information is all a part of the public record" and that "they use a 'third party' to compile the record.

If you thought privacy was a luxury before, perhaps...now... you realize that it simply does not exist.

What do you have in your wallet? Chase?



Note: The supervisor claimed that Citibank does the same thing. Did you know anything about this practice?

I finally got an appointment with Habitat for Humanity to come pick up the furnace on next Friday. It will not be a day too soon.

I have been in a battle with the local birds to keep it wrapped up. They seem to believe that the string wrapped around the tarp is for them, for their nests.

They have already taken over my water fountain as the newest local watering hole. They are picking off the moss that has grown on it for three years and drinking it dry each day. I come home and the pump is dry. I guess I am going to have to start turning it off each day so that is doesn't get ruined. Really, it is remarkable that the birds are drinking all that water.

Of course...they leave evidence of their congregating visit on the railing of my deck above the fountain.

Why can they not just be thankful for the bird seed I put out?

Really, Fancy and Madison are far more endearing as birds than the greedy avian folk who've been visiting lately.

I awoke at 9:00 and let Kashi out and then crawled back in bed. I did not wake again until 3:30.

I played with Kashi and the birds and had a meal. I've channeled surfed for hours and tried to ready, but I am still tired.

So I am going back to bed.

I yawned the whole way home today. I was tired beyond tired. But much of the way a friend pretended to be a cooking show host and entertained me almost home. Then, another good friend called, and we chatted about the brochure I am creating for her new business. That kept me up the rest of the drive.

Is that friendship or what?

My best friend is quite ill and stilled played Scrabble with me, even past the point where she should have been sleeping peacefully (well that may not be possible with her cough) because we were locked in a titanic word struggle.

Is that friendship or what?

I like to win. She likes to win. She is a better loser than I, a better winner than I. I struggle to emulate her in her Scrabble behavior (not just those stellar words she sees among her seven letters...for example, tonight she played "sagathy"...a Scrabble Bingo to boot!) and accept with greater grace the outcome of the game. Still she plays with me.

Definitely...that is friendship!

While waiting for the world's greatest handyman on Monday, I finally weeded the last portion of the flower bed by my stoop.

You see, this past summer I decided to test the commonly shared gardening factoid that if you put at least four inches of mulch down you will not have a problem with weeds. I, however, have spent my whole gardening career spreading the mulch as thinly as possible to save labor and money. Quite skeptical over the whole thing, I nevertheless put down nearly three dozen bags of mulch, except for the portion closest to the stoop.

This contractor was supposed to be replacing the stoop and repairing the section of sidewalk that has been missing since July 2004 when the VERY EXPENSIVE sewage pipe in my front yard had to be replaced. Those plumbers swore they would not be breaking up the sidewalk, but when I arrived home, there were two and a half squares missing.

Well, the contractor kept changing the start date and ultimately never came. I kept telling myself he would eventually want the job, so I didn't want to waste the mulch. I have had four bags of mulch sitting against the fence in the back yard since last May.

The test proved true. Everywhere I put the four inches of mulch, I had virtually no weeds. However, that portion by the stoop was FILLED with them. So, while waiting for the handyman, I started pulling weeds. Since he arrived a bit late, I was able to finish the bed and put down one of those bags of mulch. The result was beautiful and clean and gave me such viewing pleasure that I chastised myself for not doing so in the first place. I spent all that time ignoring the growing weeds when I could have enjoyed the bed. What would be the cost of redoing the mulch? A few dollars? Penny wise and pound foolish I was...

Tonight, after coming home, I decided to tackle the flower bed on the other side of the stoop and the two on the side of the house. I also ripped out all the ivy that had snuck its way in again the side of the house. It was dark by the time I finished, and I was trembling so hard that I struggled to put the locks back on the sheds and the gate. However, the result was again quite beautiful in my eyes. I had spread two more bags of mulch and trimmed back some unruly bushes in addition to the weeding. I have really missed that "oneness" with the soil.

However, as I leaned my head against the shower wall for a moment a bit ago, I found myself dozing off. My boss told me once that she was so uncomfortable during her pregnancy that she slept standing against a wall. I didn't really believe her because I didn't think it was possible. But I am here to tell you that it is possible to do so even while scalding hot water is pouring down your body.

While I am off to bed quite tired and am quite confident that I will be a bit sore in the morning, I cannot wait to see the fruit of my labors by sunlight.

God walked before me today in such a loving way. He prepared the way for a truly easy purchase of my first door. The saleswoman was quite patient. She looked up twelve different doors (because kept picking ones that were not available for weeks on end) with no complaint. After seeing the door types I was leaning toward, she found one that will arrive in just two weeks.

Since the door/window section was empty except for the two of us, she then walked me to the door lock section and talked me through the selection process. She put the whole order together and arranged for the key person to key all four locks (I'm replacing the locks on the back door and studiously avoiding all thoughts of that door itself) keyed the same. She even reminded me to get how ever many spare keys I thought I might need.

Lowe's had also extended its twelve-month no interest promotion so I will be able to pay for the door and locks a little bit as a time over the next year with no penalty.

If you had told me that the process would be so easy and that I would be able to put off the payment until such a time I could handled it better, I would laughed at you in disbelief. However, I actually left the store in thankful prayer that this, at least, would not be the arduous repair that I usually find myself facing.

NOTE: My best friend is so very great at finding just what I need. I have made up one and only one joke: Why did the chicken cross the road? It saw some barbecue sauce and wanted to take a dip! Great joke, eh? Well, I tell it to my boss all the time to make her smile, to distract her from the stress and strain she is facing just now. However, I recognize the fact that the joke wears a bit thin after the hundredth or so telling. So, I mentioned to my friend that I needed to learn some new chicken jokes. In no time flat she found this great website: www.whydidthechickencrosstheroad.com. [She has such depth to that which she will do to help a friend out!] I modified a joke I found on that website:

Why did the Texan Chicken cross the road?
To show the armadillo it could be done!

Well, this house isn't done with me yet. I...well...I am losing ground in being the "alpha" owner.

The front door has been harder and harder to open. Summer time is just plain awful, with last summer my having to lift the door and push it back against the hinges to open and close it. I was, however, quite relieved when it got better over the winter. But believe me...that was a case of false hope that replacement could be avoided.

A few weeks ago, the door jam cracked from top to bottom on the inside. I knew when I first saw the crack that there would be no turning back for me. The crack has only widened.

Last summer, I tried screwing in the hinges and the piece of wood to which the hinges were attached as a stop gap measure. But the screws just turned and turned without catching anything. My friend's husband feared rotten wood...or worse...termites! I preferred not to think about it.

Well, I called the most wonderful, godly handyman who installed my gable vent fan last summer (changing my life in the process since I am so much cooler in my bedroom in the summer now) and asked if he could replace a door. The quotes I had gotten were averaging $1,500, not including the repair work I suspected was necessary because of those screws.

He came over to look at the job and determined that we really needed to pop off the trim to get a look at how the door was attached. [Engineers beware; reading further may be hazardous to your mental health!]

The reason the screws were just spinning was neither rotten wood or termite damage. The simply spun because there was nothing to which they could attached. There is just open space! To top that, the reason the door has shifted so significantly is that the hinge side is held up only by a piece of 1 x 3 wood! The handyman has MUCH work before him.

Tomorrow I shall go to Lowe's and order a door.

The house has won again.

Oh, me, oh my. I am so very tired.

I have yet to advise on the photo selection...but at least the text is done, eh?

I have spent the whole evening working on work for tomorrow, working and wondering if there is even an end or if I am just chasing an illusion.

I am struggling to finish my presentation for tomorrow because I keep hearing the words of that developer and seeing the look on her face. Why bother? It's pure waste. That is such a strong image to set aside and find the impetus to complete my work.

Of course, I'm practically sabotaging my own presentation by not going to bed. I have worked every night this week and all weekend long and should sleep.

But, I keep futzing with the PowerPoint tomorrow, trying to come up with a visual representation for a summary of the whole thing. I am verbal. I am not...visual.

SIGH.

I'm done. I'm done. I'm done!

Well...honestly, will I ever really be done?

Okay, that aside, I did finish the text for my mother's new website, and I finished my mother's brochure as well. I sent the text to the website designer and I burned the brochure to a CD for the printer.

I am done. I am tired of fighting with her to get what I needed for these two projects. I am tired of hearing how she was too tired at night to work on it. I couldn't work during the day because I have a full time job. I am more tired than she could ever understand, and yet I am doing this for her. She's tired?

I also fought with her to get the words I needed to craft her message. This is her company, her profession. She done this for 35 years. If she cannot give me the words I need to craft her message, then who can?

AND I'M DOING ALL THIS FOR FREE!

ARGH!

I am done!


...........................at least I hope I am.......................................

The definition of irony: An insurance company sending you a check for $31 dollars due to a miscalculation in your premium the same day they send a notice that your premium was being raised.

This developer at work was walking by while I was assembling binders of our new communications policies and procedures for staff. She looked at the piles of binders, paper, and tabs and commented that it was all a colossal waste of time and paper.

I was stunned and felt awash with defeat.

It was not just the binders she dismissed.

Why would you even just say something like that to a co-worker?

I also have a communications person determined to flat out bully us into making an event for residents into a political statement. We changed the date to accommodate them. We even stepped aside as the "host" to accommodate them (even though this whole thing is on our non-profit dime). I have been standing our ground on the event format, speaking the "broken record" to her and the other two folks in the county government who also keep pushing and pushing and ignoring us. This woman actually called the president of our company to complain! She complained about me and claimed that there was an error on the postcards and letters we sent out. She just didn't read them. There are two times because their are two parts to the event. All she was trying to do was to make trouble. I would love to meet her on a school ground!

Throughout this project, we have worked to include the partners in our press and have pitched it as evidence of what a strong partnership and dedicated residents can accomplish in affordable housing. The county has maintained a website on the project without ever consulting us other than to request photos. They even announced the completion of the project without asking us!

ARGH! DOUBLE ARGH!

I really don't understand people.

I just don't.

I spent the entire evening drafting, revising, and reworking the text for my mother's website. Be careful, very careful, in agreeing to help someone (especially a family member) for free in your area of expertise. The task may swallow you whole!

Kashi started a new medicine this evening since that which he had been taking for the past eight weeks did not effect much change in his well-being. Apparently, these pills taste worse than the Chinese herb ones because he protested the pill going down his throat.

I did assuage his indignation by giving him the grilled peppers, onions, and tomatoes left over from the Greek lunch I had. He found them rather tasty. I was quite willing to sacrifice my shot at those vegetables so that he might enjoy them. We are a good pair, Kashi and I.

I have been working on a brochure for my mother's new business and helping her work with her website designer. Of course...that means I am putting together the text for the website. I worked about five hours this evening after work. I wish to bill her...but I cannot. The website is too wordy...I am struggling to get it down.

To make sure I had a good night sleep, my best friend gave me the opportunity to lose to her in Scrabble yet again. Her prowess was evident again in that I had most of the triple word squares and yet she led from beginning to end. I am proud that my friend is so good at this game, but I really, really, really do not like losing!

Wednesday nights are hard because they lead to Thursdays when I would rather they lead to Fridays because Wednesdays I am the most fatigued and looking forward to Friday nights because they lead to Saturday mornings when I can sleep as long as needed.

I had the most amazing package come to me. Its journey was a bit extended by life's interruptions and a wrong address, but it was so filled with love and thoughtful care that I was...and still am...rather overwhelmed.

Words are so important. Powerful. My friend has this wonderful ability to capture the minutiae of her life by jotting down her experiences and thoughts on just about any paper at hand, be it a menu or a candy wrapper. The paper you might discard such as a church bulletin, a program from a child's school event, or notice of a workshop at a local library is just the tool she uses to craft the message of her life, to include you in her life.

I wept when I opened the package that also had another box inside. I peeked in that and then promptly decided to see how much will power I could exert in drawing out this wonderful experience. and set it aside for another day. I did take the time to savor a belated birthday card, enjoy a few iced animal crackers, and ponder over the uses for this free tin she got from Borders. It is the shape of a small book with an inspiring quote on the possibilities of literacy on the plain silver cover. Something she could have kept for herself quite readily yet passed on to me because she knows what books mean to me and how I might enjoy the small tin.

The bundle of papers, of letters and notes to me, I gathered together and wrapped with a ribbon and held the rest of the night...even while talking with my cousin. We were having a difficult conversation and I should have given him the opportunity to share in this very good and sweet thing, but I knew if I tried to speak of it to him I would weep again. Men really don't like tears, do they?

She is miles and years away in my life, but she walks with Christ and showers blessings upon me from time to time...in His perfect timing.

I just can't do it. I can't. I have to go to sleep. ARGH! I am so tired of being tired, but I should be used to it because I am nearly always tired. Yet, I haven't been this tired in years. I can't even keep my eyes open long enough to read before I sleep.

The HVAC guys found a leak in the valve on the outside unit when they were leaving. The Trane compressor that I purchased is actually a bottom-of-the-line Payne unit. The repair will be somewhere in the neighborhood of $600 and will need to be done before I can use the AC. To replace it so that I actually had a warranty would be about $1,400. I am nauseated by all this.

However...Marty's duct work is quite beautiful.

Pulling everything out of the utility room was an opportunity to clean and reduce a bit. I "found" two trashbags of stuff that no longer seemed important to keep.

Is that my silver lining?

I'm off to bed...

I have ripped open the seams on both of my pillow shams stuffing the pillows back in them after all the bedding went through the wash. I asked a friend to sew them for me because she has a machine and all my "by hand" stitching leaves a bit to be desired. She was, however, too busy, so I was left to my own devices.

All I am going to say that is that when sewing the seams of pillow shams it is quite important that the flap is in the proper position. If I were talking about my repair job, I might mention that I got the flap wrong three times (outside on one side and inside on another) and had to keep ripping out my painstaking stitches. But I am not getting into all that.

I did end my rather frustrating day quite wonderfully. A friend was not feeling well, so I visited her with three plans for relaxation before she went to sleep. She chose listening to a CD of Fernando Ortega (20 of my favorites) and having her hands massaged with lotion. Sprinkle in a bit of laughter and my job was done. She was smiling and feeling a wee bit better. Fernando is great therapy when one's mind and heart is overtaxed.

Of course, I went over there in my lounge pants and oversized, bird-chewed purple shirt so that she would not feel to need to get gussied up...but she still popped in the shower and put on a rather fetching lounge outfit. My rags paled in comparison. She really is classy.

Oh to be so...

I am not sure what is going on with me. I fell asleep around 8:30 last night and slept until 11:00 this morning. I had to go to work this afternoon to take photos at a youth jam and struggled to stay awake after walking around for a few hours. I came home and took a nap...and I am heading off to be soon.

I am tired.

I usually savor the opportunity to take photos, but I felt as if they were all the same photos as last year. I did capture one kid flying in the air while doing jump rope. That was cool. Many of the "award" recipient photos stunk because the kids didn't stay still and I was really in the wrong place.

I did, however, get to try out the new flash on my camera. I heard that the FL-36 was getting rather difficult to find, so whereas I would not have even thought about purchasing it until next year (and this was before the HVAC disaster), I went ahead and got it. I did figure out how to avoid the shadow on several flash photos by bouncing it off the ceiling. A few of them still had the shadows that plagued last year's photos in the music center, but they were better.

My victory of the day was finding a place that sells wood bunkbeds for my sister that is less than an hour from where she lives and has prices that are two thirds less than what she had been finding. Score one for me.

I am on my way to bed again. It is 10:00, so later than yesterday, but still quite early for me. I would have given in to my fatigue earlier, but I needed to work this evening to finish up a "task" that needed doing.

I worked all evening because I had to leave work early to meet the HVAC contractor at the house this afternoon. My three and a half year old AC (translate that to something that SHOULD NOT be broken and yet is and SHOULD BE under warranty and yet is not) stopped working. I needed it on Monday when it was so warm (85 in my house by the night's end). Practically the worst thing you can hear is that your coil is leaking.

But, wait, I also asked him about the four and a half year old furnace. Thus far this winter, I have spent $800 in gas bills (not including this month which has not arrived) while keeping a 1200 square foot home at only 68 degrees. I have been frigid all winter and paying through the nose for the privilege.

Four other times I have had contractors look at the furnace trying to figure out what was wrong. All of them told me it was oversized, but not much more. There were no gas leaks. It was working perfectly.

Actually, it is not.

Because it is for a house four times larger than mine, with four times longer and larger ducts, it overheats constantly. A safety mechanism kicks in and shuts off the gas until it cools down enough to come back on. So the unit runs constantly but most of the heat remains in the basement and is a fire hazard. Bottom line, I need to yank this perfectly usable, relatively new furnace for one a quarter of its size...so that my home is safe, I no longer freeze, and my gas bills drop.

So, for the bargain basement price of $2,100, I can have my HVAC system back to working order.

At least I can be thankful that Marty took the time to study the furnace, poke around, watch it function, and determine the reason for the lack of heat despite gargantuan bills. Inside the unit, there is evidence of high heat on the wiring and the walls. What slightly appeased my horror at the expense was his obvious anger that anyone in his profession would have installed the furnace in the first place. The previous owner must not have had a clue to have been hoodwinked on the furnace. The oversized unit cost him far more than the right sized one would have. Of course, it is costing me as well.

The other comfort is that Marty and his partner will be properly "ducting" the two units together. The fraud who put in the A/C for me cobbled something together and made quite a mess. Marty made me smile because he said he does the prettiest duct work in all of Northern Virginia. He knew I was upset.

So...I had bad news...worked late finishing a project...and am off to bed.

At least tomorrow is Friday.

I am on my way to bed at half past Eight. Shocking, eh?

I just can't stay awake. I am tired beyond belief, probably from painting my life away this past weekend at my best friend's house. It was absolutely, unbelievably wonderful to see her and her family. My hands were so sore on Sunday that I could barely clothe myself and risked the lives of my pets and myself driving home with my wrists through the steering wheel. I got lost twice and turned a three hour drive into a five hour drive. I have blisters on both thumbs and two fingers...but I would do it all again...in a heartbeat!

I am, however, tired. How tired am I? Funny you should ask. As I bent over to wrap the towel around my hair after my shower tonight, I closed my eyes for a moment and began to fall asleep. I bonked my head on the side of the tub rather thoroughly. I decided that even if Kashi wakes me up in the middle of the night to do his business, I have got to crawl between the sheets.

As close as we are thanks to Sprint PCS, nothing compares to actually being in her presence. After all, who else will sing hymns with me whilst playing Phase Ten?

She won Scrabble, rather handily.

I won Phase Ten.

I looked and looked and looked again for a CD that was missing from its case. I fretted over the cost of replacing such gloriously worshipful music since tomorrow or the next day I will be plunking down $1,000 for my car. I bemoaned my loss to my friend. I searched the house from basement to second floor. I found my portable CD player. It was empty. I checked the jambox. It was empty. Finally, I found the CD in with another CD that was properly in its own case. Now, let me ask you: Would you think to look for a Fernando Ortega CD in the case for a Carpenter's CD?

Now that I found it, I can burn a mix of my favorite Fernando songs that my friend wants to share with her mother. Some years ago, I actually got to see him live. It was the most worshipful experience that I have in a concert. He sings with such abandon in his faith, with such simplicity of truth.

One of my favorite songs is below.


Creation Song

He wraps Himself in light
As with a garment,
He spreads out the heavens
And walks on the wings of the wind.

He sends forth the springs
from the valleys
The flow between moutains.
The birds of the air dwell
by the waters,
Lifting their voices in song-

Singing glory, glory!
Glory to the Lamb!
All praises and honor forever.

He made the moon for its season,
The sun knows it setting.
He looks at the Earth and it trembles,
He touches the mountains
and they smoke,

I will sing to the Lord all my life,
I will sing praises to my God -
As long as I live,
Praises to the Lord, oh my soul.

Singing glory, hallelujah!
Glory to our God!
All praises and honor forever.

I have visions of grandeur.

In a softball game, I would envision myself whacking the ball high over the pitcher's head into the outfield. Reality is, however, I could barely hit the thing a few feet and always wound up getting thrown out at first base.

In art class, I would envision myself painting the landscape of Colorado I carry around in my mind across a canvas so that someone else might feel the power of such beauty. Reality is, however, that the average second grader paints with far greater talent and perspective than I.

In the kitchen, I dream of making those mouth-watering desserts that people greet with gleeful anticipation. Reality is, however, burned cookies, brownies, cake, and candy. I can cook...but I cannot bake.

I would give good money for someone to make the following and send me a batch. One of the good memories of my childhood is this candy. I would like to taste it again.

Mexican Brown Sugar Candy

Ingredients

1 c buttermilk
2 c sugar
1 c brown sugar, packed
1 ts baking soda
1/2 ts salt
2/3 c light corn syrup
2 ts vanilla extract
2 tb melted butter
1 1/2 c pecan
1 ts hot water

Instructions

In a 4-quart saucepan cook the buttermilk, sugar, brown sugar, baking soda, salt and corn syrup over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally to 230 F or the soft ball stage. Remove from heat. Mix in vanilla and butter. Blend until thick. Add pecans and beat until creamy and thick. Stir in hot water and drop by tablespoons onto waxed paper. Cool for 2 hours before wrapping individually in clear plastic wrap.

Kashi's least favorite activity is taking a bath. All I have to do to strike fear in his heart and send him to trembling and whimpering is to ask him if he wants a bath. It is a question that I find myself blurting out when I am particularly frustrated with his behavior. Today, however, I had put off the inevitable long enough. He needed a bath.

I think what frightened me about the whole thing is that he seem to wilt under the weight of the water on his coat. He usually howls and sets up a wail that would earn him an Oscar. This time, he simply trembled and ended up just sitting in the water. By the time the whole ordeal was over, my face was wet with more than the water he shook off his coat as I dried him off with a couple of towels.

Afterward, he took a nap on the rug in front of the green chair. He slept in a patch of sunlight that poured through the window on the front door. When we visited my mother years ago, he spent much of his days moving from one patch of sunlight to another as he napped throughout the day. Today, I was reminded of the smile that filled my face each time he moved as I watched him rest from his ordeal. He has brought me such joy over the years. 'Tis a pity I must traumatize him every now and then by dowsing him with soap and water.

I need to replace my front door and was going to not get one with a window for security...but how could I deny my puppydog his sunlight?

Despite all my claims on not working at night or on the weekends any more...I worked until 3:30 this morning...I did, however, sleep in a bit and straggled out of bed at 10:00...only to discover that an important letter needed drafting by 11:00...so I logged on and whipped it out before heading to work...only to be caught behind a wreck...I felt a bit wrecked myself...I continued working on the mailing list that should have been done beforehand...yet another dropped ball by my assistant...I corrected and formatted for the rest of the day...I did get the mailing off to the printer to put together with our annual overview and so the blasted collateral piece could finally go in the mail...I got in the car to drive home...only to be caught behind an even larger wreck...I sat in traffic, unmoving, for more than an hour...I collapsed on the couch once I got home...I am tired...still...

I sat in a room for a meeting I was to lead on our next event. No one showed up. While I know that nothing should be personal, I cannot even begin to describe how badly I felt. We are in the middle of much change, but what I am doing cannot be set aside and picked up again when it is convenient. Messaging doesn't happen all at once. To be successful, it must be sown with patience and care.

I had spent three days trying to teach myself Illustrator because someone needed an EPS file of a design I had created for a t-shirt at the last minute. When I told her that I had finished, she told me that she had already gotten someone else to take care of it.

I also learned that she had already settled all the arrangements for a cable station to tape an event in March.

I am nothing. My work means nothing. All my labors count for nothing.

I cried the whole way home from work and all through the evening, with neither of my friends answering their phones.

Sometimes, silence is not golden.

I dropped off my broken car and picked up the rental. Such ease. Katie told me that she had thought about me all weekend and was worried for me. She had a Dr. Pepper waiting for me.

Compassion personified.

It is wearying to be an eternal disappointment, to be criticized constantly, to be found fundementally wanting...by your mother.

Dinner with my writing student's family was most sumptuous and wonderful. They are an absolutely lovely family, full of intelligence, humor, and talent. Her father works wonders on the stove and cooked my all-time favorite of his creations. Three of the younger kids indulged me in Phase 10 (although I will NOT admit that they regularly beat me at whatever game we chose). We all marveled at those speed skaters...and had a soundly satisfying evening.

The knife is gone and the stiffness and soreness remaining is MUCH more manageable.

Still popping pain pills, though I have added PMS medicine. When it rains...it truly does pour.

Entertaining my mother and trying to help with her new website does not fit with my agenda of curling into a ball and huddling in the green chair.

I keep sticking the thermometer in my mouth because of the chills, but I know that they are from the pain.

This, too, shall pass...

When?

A short while after I awoke, I was standing in the bathroom and suddenly buckled over in pain. I felt as if someone was stabbing a hot knife into my neck at the base of my skull. My breakfast shortly went into the toilet and I found myself shivering and sweating because of the pain radiating in my neck and shoulders.

Since I had to take my car to visit the insurance adjustor at 11:00, I had planned to work from home in the morning. I struggled to concentrate and yet was thankful for something, anything, on which to focus aside from how badly I was hurting.

When I arrived at the collision center, I took a rather long time actually getting to her desk because I didn't want to have to make a side visit to the nearest trash can. She asked if I was okay, I told her that I have MS and that it was just a particularly bad day. She responded in compassion and concern because her friend's husband has MS and she understand what I meant. She offered me a drink while I was waiting. Marvel of marvels, this northern company actually had Dr. Pepper.

It is no small wonder the ways that God cares for me.

I was fretting about the hassle of getting my car repaired and I have insurance that makes it virtually a one-stop-shopping experience. I wouldn't have this insurance if my other company had not abruptly dropped me because of an accident after having 21 years of a clean record. I was writhing in pain and feeling so weak and yet He strengthened me with the compassion of a stranger.

Later on, while at work, struggling to concentrate and even talk while helping someone do something that was not really my job, and not receiving an ounce of compassion, I was reminded of the gift of that half hour with a woman named Katie who walks the path of kindness.

Still, I do not choose pain, I would not choose pain, and my tears might be laced with a wee bit of self pity just now. Neither Tylenol nor Motrin are staying the knife. As tired as I am, I know that sleep will not be a close companion this night.

I found myself yelling at the fraud service representative at Capital One this evening because I got a call about suspicious activity on my account (the caller did not say which of the two cards it was) and that my card was going to be temporarily suspended. I called the department back, was passed from person to person, only to discover that there were no fraud notes on either account and neither was "temporarily closed." I wasted nearly an hour on the phone for nothing. I was really angry because after a while, each person I talked to would pick out what he/she thought might be a "suspicious" charge and none of them were recent because both bills were paid in full just last week. I stayed on the phone because I do not carry cash and have been charging everything for the miles so having my account frozen would be difficult for me. But I resented the waste of time and energy when there was apparently no reason and instead of acknowledging that a mistake had been made, the employees of Capital One kept insisting that I stay on the phone for one more "specialist" to review my accounts. Each "specialist" made me repeat all my identifying information before he/she would continue. I was steamed and I yelled.

My car was crunched on the way to work. I am disappointed and frustrated...and oh, did I mention tired?

I was not a good game player with my friend because I was a rather poor loser. Again, I really do like that she is so darned smart...I just hate getting trounced by one big point word after another. She is very, very, very good at Scrabble.

I suppose that I should concentrate on my victory today: my kitchen sink and my bathroom sink both became clogged, but for separate reasons (you really shouldn't shred a lot of lettuce in a disposal and watering plants in the bathroom sink is not the brightest idea either). My wonderful, amazing, has-an-answer-for-everything boss told me about some stuff that her plumber recommends that is for sale at Home Depot. She forgot the name of it, but she could describe the bottle.

I found it, bought it, and went through the unclogging process on both sinks. It took but two applications for my kitchen sink to gurgle happily once more, but the bathroom sink was a bit more reticent. I did three separate applications to no avail (pour 6 ounces slowing down the drain, being careful NOT to get the product on anything but the middle of the drain, and wait ten minutes). Then I sat on the toilet to ponder the situation. Since the water would actually run for a while before it would back up, which told me the dirt and leaves were a bit of a trek down the pipe, I decided to pour in the rest of the bottle so that the product would move past the trap and on down the pipe. My gamble paid off and I successfully avoided a plumbing bill. I even-- albeit with a bit of fear and trepidation--ran the dishwasher, which easily drained down the kitchen pipes.

I should think about pipes, not costly crunches.

My cousin showed me the ultimate kindness: we came upon a dead mouse in a trap I had long ceased to check that had been dead for many moons and he removed it from my home for me. What greater compassion could one person show for another?

I fret a bit because I am so tired. I know that nearly everything I write about lately is filled with the theme of fatigue, but I am simply tired. He has been thoroughly enjoying the city, so his visit has been easy on me. And I am truly excited he is here, but I am tired and grumpy and less than cheery at times. I fret because I wish not to put the outcomes of my fatigue off on him. He deserves better.

At work, I watched my computer being troubleshooted for 3 hours. The IT people do not like Adobe software, but I depend on four of their products for our design and production work. I do not like being a source of contention for IT, yet I know that we do not have the funds to outsource all the default design and production work I do. It is a catch 22. By the time he was done, I felt as if I had run a mile.

Alas, I also railed at Network Solutions today for the better part of 3 hours today. I struggled to keep my temper when each person I talked with had a different excuse as to why an account had been created for us in the transfer process but without the domain tied to it and thus a different authentification that needed to take place before we could assume ownership of the domain from the company we acquired. For seven weeks we have been pursuing this process. Today was the last day the staff from the other company would have email and the domain would have been up. I lost the battle with my tongue, pointing out that my problem was one of Network Solution's making, not ours. Still, they hold all the cards.

That battle with them made me tired. Plus, I have eating much restaurant and otherwise not-the-healthiest food for a week. I have noticed that I felt much better when I was eating the salads and grilled meats. My mother is coming on Thursday and we already have two restaurant meetings planned, but other than that, it is soups and salads and grilled meat for me. Perhaps I might be a bit less fatigued if I ate better.

My cousin is a superb photographer. I wheeled and pleaded for him to transfer all the photos he had taken thus far to my desktop for my viewing pleasure. He is so kind: I asked for him to take pictures of a giraffe at the zoo and he came back with many to enjoy. I think I will make one of them my desktop at work...as a reminder of his many kindnesses.

I was looking around in the refrigerator for just the smallest something to tide me over until my cousin came back and we headed out to dinner. Then I remembered that I still had a wedge of soft cheese that I had saved from the return trip from Italy. It was not exactly still completely soft, but I ate it anyway. Some Gatorade to wash it down was just what I needed. Wasn't it convenient that I saved the bit of cheese instead of leaving it on the plane?

~~~~

Since my cousin is greatly enjoying being so close to the Mall and all the museums surrounding it, I actually have had quite a bit of time to relax. I slept late this morning and napped this afternoon. Still, I feel as if I am dragging around a hundred-pound weight. I'm off to bed now in the hopes of finding rest this night.

Last night I dreamed that I had gone back to graduate school. The two classes I signed up for were an advanced Children's Lit class and what ended up being a cosmotology class. My roommate turned out to be an assassin. I forgot my answering machine when I packed and my roommate held a knife to my throat threatening to slice it open if she had to take one more message from my mother. But what worried me is that I couldn't get my backpack to fit into the lockers outside the bookstore, so I couldn't get inside to purchase my books.

Anyone want to take a stab at "interpreting" that one?

Sometimes I wonder if I am too harsh. A person will ask my opinion, and I will give it. Isn't that what you are supposed to do when someone asks? I think so, or at least I did. But now I wonder if I am wrong. I wonder if you are not supposed to give an honest answer.

What do you think about...? I answer. Then I become puzzled that my answer seems to hurt the other person, to diminish her/him somehow. Just because I think one particular thing, doesn't mean everyone else has to do so as well? So, why should I censor my thoughts/opinions if a person has queried me about them? It just doesn't make sense.

I would never want less than an honest answer myself. I assume that would be the same for someone who solicits advice or opinions. Is this not the case? Are you supposed to measure your words against the needs or opinions of the person before you? Give one answer for Joe and another for Jane?

I am not talking about being respectful of another persons beliefs while interacting with that person. I am not talking about recognizing the other person's role/duties in the company. I am not talking about understanding and weighing the emotional needs or intellectual maturity of a person while choosing the words with which to frame an answer.

I am talking about someone asking you for your opinion. If it is your opinion, while being considerate of the person before you in how you answer, should you not simply state what you believe, what you think?

I check on my battery order at Dell because I couldn't understand why it hadn't shipped when the information on the website said that it would ship in 24 hours. When I checked back at the item description, I noticed that the price was $50 cheaper!

I called Dell to cancel the order and reorder the battery at the cheaper price. Would you believe that the sales person couldn't understand why I wanted to cancel the order only to reorder the same items. I explained about the price difference, but she still didn't understand and questioned my decision to cancel the order several times.

It's the same item.
It's $50.00 less.
But it is the same item.
Look it up on your own website and compare the price listed on my order; it's $50 less.
But why would you cancel an order to buy the same item?
I don't want to spend an extra $50 on this item!

Of course, this means that it won't ship until Tuesday and I won't get it until the following Monday. A whole week lost in the transaction.

But still...wouldn't you want to save $50?

I had a hard conversation this evening, recognizing that there is too much to be done and little that I can do. But then...but then...oh, then...my cousin called, feeling rather rash, and booked a ticket to come see me on Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. But...then...there was more...his idea of a good time: we could write together!!!! Wow. Be still my beating heart.

Currently, I have on bike shorts, leggings, jersey pants, sweatpants, tank top, two shirts, a sweater, and two pairs of socks. I am staving off the chill in here because last month's gas bill was $300 with the thermostat set at 68. So, since my last bill, I nudged the dial a bit to hover around 66 degrees. However, the thought of having company and getting to work on writing makes me feel rash. I might just bump it up to 70 for the long weekend.

He is, however, rather suspect of consuming food from my refrigerator given some of my recent posts. I do not know why he would worry. I did have to admit to myself that my 10 bags of lettuce might not make it. I am consumed bag 7 tonight and some of the leaves were a bit...mushy. Of course, I just doused it all with lots of salad dressing and downed it all. I am not sure I am going to make my way through the last 3 bags.

I also had leftovers from the reception Wednesday. I am single handedly trying to consume the left overs. I did pawn some off on the residents of the building we used, on the resident association president, on a guy from Microsoft (I convinced he would be a popular guy at work the next day), and on our staff who work on site. Still, I came home with a couple hundred skewers of meat.

My last five meals have been leftovers. How long do you think those skewers will last?

I worked until 2:00 last night and was at work (the latter part of the day was an event) until 9:30. Kashi barely recognizes me! I did ask my boss if it was okay for me to work from home tomorrow to save the commute. I plan on sleeping those two "extra" hours!

I have much delicious food left over from the event sitting in my refrigerator. I have beautiful flowers filling the air with their sweet fragrance also left over from the event. I have small chocolate covered brownie wedges waiting for me in the freezer (14 of them). I should be satisfied.

Tomorrow I shall sleep late. I shall take lunch to write for myself. I shall enjoy many jerk chicken and flank stake skewers. I shall savor dessert. I shall nap in the afternoon. I shall accomplish at least three big work tasks. I shall go to bed early. I shall get some rest.

Tomorrow.

A friend called to say that she had received my Valentine's day card and my response was that I couldn't talk. I had to work. Of course, before she hung up I had dumped a bit about work and how I cannot seem to figure out what I can set down so that I am juggling less and sleeping more.

A friend called and at nine at night I chose work.

I am a lout.

I am crashing. Crashing onto the ground. Crashing on my computer. Crashing on the couch.

Friday night's pain led to spending Saturday on the couch trying to recover.

Sunday I tried to shovel snow while still using the cane and fell, hard, on my back. Back to couch where I lost two games of Scrabble with my best friend and ended up working until 3:30 am since I was hurting so much and, well, determined to finish my tasks. Working through our server at work is frustrating most of the time. I refused to let a computer get the best of me.

I have several items I would like to knock out tonight, but I am not sure I can stay away despite how uncomfortable I feel.

Perhaps my fatigue will outweigh the pain, and I will sleep and awake refreshed for work...

I have been working so much that I did not hear about this great snow storm coming this weekend until yesterday...when the prospect of inclement weather ruined my plans to hop in the car and visit with my best friend for a few hours half way between our two homes.

I scoffed at the idea of a great storm. We have basically have just had rain this winter, no satisfying blankets of white for Kashi to frolic through in the back yard. I scoffed because in my eight winters here, the number of times a storm actually arrived as predicted is small. I scoffed because I saw no change in weather that indicated an impending storm. Glorious sunny days have followed each other much of this winter and certainly this week.

I am no longer scoffing. I hurt so much from the front coming through that I can hardly stand it. My couch is wet with tears and I wish for this to pass. I know it will, but how much longer will I feel this way?

I was waiting for some files to transfer from the work server to my laptop and dropped off to sleep. My cousin called and woke me...not that I remember much of what was said. I thought I would just go back to sleep, but Kashi had other ideas. I played with him and then started back in my task for this evening: uploading content to my company's website.

But it was not long before I began to feel the change in pressure. At first, you sort of think that perhaps you have just been sitting a bit too long. You shift position or even get up and walk around for a while. Soon, however, the realization of what is happening sinks in, and you find yourself sighing deeply, wondering how long it will last.

Fiery pain laces through my lower back and knees. I feel as if I ache all over, but it is actually my joints. My ankles hurt. My wrists hurt. I shudder and tears slip down my cheeks, despite my attempts to work, to read, or to watch TV in a futile attempts at distraction.

I wish Old Man Winter would hurry on his way...

I have accomplished much in the past three days, crossing items off my list right and left. For that, I'm thankful. My boss, however, has become more beleagured by the moment...and I am helpless to do anything to alleviate her burden.

Last night, I didn't finish my work until 3:30 AM. I wonder, am I a poor manager for having to do all this or an extremely dedicated employee making a sacrifice for her company?

Tonight have I worked not, reveling in my suppine position in the green chair and the satisfaction that not only are the thank you notes from Christmas in the mail, but all my Valentine's day cards and all birthday cards for the month of February!

It is going to be another late night, even though I am already quite tired.

I actually drove home with a smile on my face because this afternoon I saw the light at the end of my tunnel! Over the past two days, I have crossed many an item off my ever growing list so that it is down to single digits! I am getting close to have my work load in a management proportion, especially since I started yet another organization system to cope with all that I am juggling.

But I committed to having a rather large document done for the morning and only now realize that I have several more hours of work. I will finish. I shall finish. I am not noticing the trembling and shaking and dizziness. I am determined!

Today, for the third day in a row, God demonstrated His lovingkindness to me by sending someone to help me. Two, in fact. At Target, where I went to pick up my prescriptions, someone saw me leaning on the cart (I am feeling particularly weak today) and took over my shopping. I found two baby gifts and bought all the cards I'll need to send out until May. It may seem a small thing, but without the assistance, I would not have been able to get the gifts and I am already frustrated at the Christmas thank you cards that have been riding back and forth to work with me for weeks on end now.

Along the vein of "my cup runneth over," the practice administrator of Kashi's vet offered to mail his medicine because I have not been able get there before they close. Sometimes Kashi trembles even while sleeping, and he is still emptying his water bowls several times a day. It had taken the vet a while to order the Chinese herbs she chose for his treatment, but it has been sitting on her desk for over two weeks now. I do want his quality of life to be as high as possible and have felt badly over not starting his treatment.

So, while tired and struggling, with continuing chaos at work, mounds of obligations, and groceries still in the back of my car, I still found a moment of respite from the burdens of my job, a moment of peace from the help God sent me, and a moment of joy in the antics of my puppy dog.

I haven't been to the grocery store in a month and eating at home was pretty slim pickin's. I've been too tired to eat and sometimes ignoring my own hunger. So, I determined to go to the store this evening on the way home from work.

While I wondered how I would shop with my cane, I shouldn't have. God provided. This kind Safeway man followed me around, pushing the cart and pulling items. He even loaded my car. Too bad I couldn't take him home with me since most of my groceries are still sitting in the cargo area. What surprised me most is that he didn't bat an eyelash as asking him to pack the cart with two gallons of milk, six packs of Dr. Pepper, twelve packs of spring mix salad, five bottles of Gatorade, two packs of bakery cookies, a small sized carrot cake, two packs of steak, and one of chicken. The cashier raised an eyelid once or twice as the items were sliding past him, but he also wisely held his tongue.

I do believe that my thirst and fatigue influenced my choices a bit. Slap a bit of meat on the grill, toss a bit of greenery in a bowl, and I have a meal complete with a cookie for dessert.

I wonder how many days it will take me to bring in the rest of the groceries one load at a time...

Tonight I found the night sky absolutely breathtaking. It was so beautiful in its simplicity. A wide expanse of darkness, scattered with stars and a brilliant moon. Gazing upon His craftsmanship, I forgot the cane, I forgot the pain. I forgot my struggle and worries and confusion. I forgot. I remembered His grace. The Creator's hand is truly magnificent.

Selah.


I am beginning to wonder if it is ever possible to leave the paths laid upon your mind as a child. I mean, you can step off the path you are on to deliberately choose another. You walk on it, following its twists and turns, and come to realize that after a long journey you are, in fact, back on the same path. The scenery is different, deceptively so. But the steps you are taking follow those lessons you learned as a child. Eerily familiar, hauntingly so.

I find myself standing on a path I left eighteen years ago. I find myself remembering the dangers. I find myself remembering the comfort. I find myself wondering if I could navigate it more successfully now, with what I have learned, than what I did then.

~~~

Today, a co-worker helped me open the bathroom door, blushing a bit since it was not of his gender. He quietly said that it was hard to see me in such pain and that he hoped I got better soon. He'll never know his words were more of a help than holding the heavy door away from my cane.

Fellow workers ask: What is wrong with you? What did you do? Did you hurt your leg? Ankle?

I answer: Nothing. Too much. No, I have MS. I overdid it and am having trouble walking.

Response: Silence. Turn and walk away.

What I wish I could say: What you can't see is the blurred vision, the tingling in my hands and feet, the strange dizziness, the pain, the weakness in my hands that make holding the phone difficult, the cognitive struggles that make dialing the phone difficult, writing difficult, remembering difficult.

Family calls. Another lecture about what I shouldn't have done. No concern. No empathy. No support. Just criticism.

What I wish I could say: Why does this journey have to be so difficult? Do I matter so little to you that you cannot, just once, ask how I am? Hold your tongue on your lecture and give encouragement instead? Why must I walk this road alone?

Thursday night a storm pushed through, leaving me writhing in bed. I hurt so much that I couldn't sleep, as tired as I was. I also finally had to admit how much the spasticity in my legs has been causing a problem. Perhaps it was that I am having trouble walking. Perhaps it was just my fatigue. Whatever the case, I couldn't escape either the pain or the knowledge that perhaps there is more than one piper who needs paying.

I tossed and turned, curling around my body pillow trying to ignore the pain, knowing that once the front was through I would feel better. But as I lay there, I started thinking about how much my legs hurt when they were bent. I don't lie with them straight because doing so hurts. But now having them bent increased the cramping in my hamstrings and calves and made the spasticity worse.

I should be stretching. I should be working at lengthening the muscles in the back of my legs. I am, however, a wimp. I cannot sit with my legs out in front of me without tears leaking from my eyes. I cannot attempt to bend over in that position without much grunting and whimpering. Doing so is simply too painful.

I don't have anyone to challenge me, to encourage me to push through the pain. I know that if I would do so each day, then I would hurt less...eventually. Kashi gets upset whenever I am upset, so he dances around me and keeps me from stretching. I use him as an excuse to stop. Weeks go by before I try again.

But I cannot stop thinking about how much tighter and more painful my legs have become.

I tried stretching today.

It is confirmed: I am a wimp.

"Be undeniably you."

This is the current slogan employed by Lenscrafters. A nice concept. Laudable? You might think so, but I think that as far as the workplace goes...being undeniably you should be the furthest thing from your mind.

I know that I always seem to walk a half step behind others. Somehow I missed how to be a human being in my formative years. I know that. I know that I am a wallflower, one who shines best one on one. I know that I am near a failure at mingling. Small talk is not a virtue of mine. That is who I undeniably am.

But I do work well one-on-one. I treat others with respect. I do not give back like for like. I work well with strangers who have no expectations of me. I work hard. I work smart. I work with a passion for service and the good of the company. I think about how all fits together and purse what is best for not just my portion of the company, but for the whole. I multi-task with the best of them. I am efficient and often accomplish a sheer prodigious amount of work. That is who I undeniably am.

But the latter part of me seems not to matter in light of the former.

Why can I not be undeniably me? Why can other not see me as the talented but awkward person I am and spot me a bit of grace?

No, do not be undeniably you. To do so is the path of failure. Rather, twist and turn yourself into a mirror of everyone else. Entrench yourself in the office "game." Take every opportunity to advance yourself over others. Abandon intellectual honesty. Strive for no more than mediocrity. Do this...and you will succeed.

I'm paying the piper.

I've worked past the point of return with regard to fatigue and awoke yesterday to find my right leg uncooperative when it came to bearing weight. I have lost the use of one or both of my legs when really tired before, so I really could not get upset. I brought this on myself.

A friend came over to let Kashi out and bring me my cane. I ended sleeping the entire day and only getting a glass of milk when Kashi went out again in the evening.

Today, I got up and started getting ready for work, without much use of my leg. But my boss called and quizzed me and told me to stay home. I did go back to sleep for four hours, but I have been working ever since...trying to stay abreast of all that needs doing now and still catching up with that which was set aside to address the changes that came up at work last week.

I would like to complete one task tonight...but I wonder if I should...

I am still tired...

What day is it? My, I am not sure that I can tell you. Still working.

I built something today with which I was pleased. I had an idea, executed it, and have made a contribution to our message. In the midst of the chaos, in the midst of the larger needs looming, this one piece of work gave satisfaction and purpose for a brief moment in time.

I also had a meeting in which I spoke with someone about what I see: she very well may not have what is needed to succeed in the path which she wishes to follow. It was a strange sort of conversation, for I had peace about my words, conviction that what I was saying was needed, yet she was in tears. She did not disagree with that which I noted. She admitted to lacking the skills needed in this field. Yet she did not want to hear me challenge her to reflect upon whether or not she could acquire what she needed to accomplish her goals. Perhaps she should choose another path.

This conversation has given me pause. There is so much that I do not understand, so much that perplexes me. I am accused of having high standards, ones not everyone can meet. Yet, I think...if you want to work in communications, you have to know the rules of grammar. How is proper comma usage a high standard? I see it as a basic requirement. It seems to me that most do not.

My list has grown, yet I have taken care of a few more items. The greatest remains outstanding. I am too tired to tackle it correctly. I am too tired to really tackle anything. I have two more tasks I'd like to do before I sleep.

Perhaps three...

Still working.

I have completed thirteen tasks from my list. I believe that I will be able to finish 2 more before I must go to sleep so as not to start the week sleep deprived.

I suppose my list was too ambitious. I suppose it was a bit unrealistic. I suppose.

I am satisfied with the work I have done thus far, however. I do believe this weekend will make the coming weeks a bit easier for me. At least I hope it does.

I did ease the load a bit by playing (well...losing) two games of online Scrabble with my best friend. I worked while we played, but even I will admit that my productivity during that time was a bit lower! Doing so, however, was a great respite to my weekend.

My only accomplishment around the house was to make my bed. It hasn't been made in over a week. Of course, it hasn't been much slept in either. Still, I wanted at least my bedroom to be free from the chaos in my life just now.

Break over. It's back to work for me...

Upon further evaluation of the list this morning...after working until 2:00 in the morning and then lying awake for another two hours thinking about all that needs to be done...I added 3 more critical items that I would like done before Monday morning.

So, on my list of 21 items, thus far I have crossed off 7 of them and am working on an 8th. I think I can knock off that one and another before I go to sleep tonight, but that would still leave more than half the list undone.

The very thought makes me sigh deeply and wonder again why I am doing this...especially since no one at work really notices or cares.

But to let things go would not be working heartily as if for the Lord. I cannot set the work aside. I almost wish I could...but I cannot.

Working. Working. Working.

I didn't leave the office until after 8:00. I rushed home to let my poor puppy dog out to do his business. I stooped to pick up his ball to play and fainted. I realized that I was past hungry some time around 7:00, but was trying to finish up so that I could leave. I stopped at 7-11 for milk because I was out and never look forward to a morning without it. When I got out of the car, I had to catch myself against the side because I was dizzy and had become clammy. So, with two warnings, I should have grabbed something as soon as I got inside the house, I guess.

I was shivering so hard when I came too, that I half believe I will NEVER get warm again.

Yet, after eating and calming down, I got back to work. To help put my weekend in perspective, I made of list of all that is outstanding, all that if accomplished would bring me back to square one even after all that has been happening at work.

My list has 18 tasks.

So...I am still working for the day.

I am still working for today (yesterday now), trying to find a stopping place.

I am insane to be doing this. I spec-ed out a camera and scanner set-up for a program coordinator and researched and drafted two press releases. I did the background reading for a third, but I am struggling with how to approach it. I also continued working on the mailing list for the farewell reception that needs to be done by tomorrow COB.

I have drafted message points for the next six months, but I still need a communications plan for this time period (the transition and re-crafting of our organization) by noon tomorrow...an impossibility, I fear.

Of course, typing here is procrastinating from getting back to work...

I think, perhaps, the gift of listening is most precious gift a person could give to me just now. Today, I have had two people give this gift in different ways, but yet both proved to be a balm to my beleaguered person.

Be careful what you ask for, eh? Someone at work who has genuinely been an obstacle to my objectives and whom I have found no way around is leaving. The leaving is a loss for the company. The leaving paves the way to new growth for the company. It is the same for me.

I worked until after 1:00 AM last night and am working again tonight (much refreshed after receiving my gifts, I must add). I have truly more than I can do at work and more than I should be doing at home. I am grasping at beads spilling through my fingers, wondering what I will have left with which to weave my work.

And, yet, my heart is lighter sitting here because two people gave a gift to me. One sat in silence for a long while, patient to let me speak. One asked questions, probing my frustration and easing the pain by commiserating with me. I am certainly not alone. Neither offered answers. One stopped me when I offered thanks. "We are friends, this is what women do for each other, she claimed." I confess I am not wholly accustomed to that mentality. Women doing for each other, that is.

My boss now is the first woman for whom I have ever cared to work. Female bosses, in my experience, tend to make things personal and turn nearly everything into a competition. Funny that I would write that now. I have not, until this moment, thought about the fact that I am working for a woman after claiming for years I preferred to work for a man because doing so meant being able to focus on the professional to a far greater degree.

Strange what comes to mind when your thoughts and emotions are a tumultuous mess...and you are tired.

That one little pill didn't really wear off until this morning. That is to say, I slept most of Saturday and Sunday and remember little of what transpired during that time.

I am still tired.

Today, we had a pretty big personnel change at work, so I had to work on messaging all day. I did not leave until after 8:00 and even now am working on some communications stuff. I didn't get to eat and barely had a chance to go to the bathroom.

The change is needed, but the timing could have been better. Personally, it has interrupted my own campaign to try and connect to staff who frankly do not pass on vital company news. Now my efforts will seem as if I am taking advantage of the personnel change. BIG SIGH.

I would like to go to bed, but I need to get a jump start on work since most of tomorrow will be at a staff meeting, plus travel to and fro. ANOTHER BIG SIGH.

Given that my neck, jaw, back, and right hip are still hurting, I am already looking forward to another little white pill on Friday even if it means losing another weekend. Perhaps, though, there will be some miracle of peacefulness this week, and I will find rest between now and Friday.

~~~~

I must admit that I did get to work closely with someone on very carefully crafting a rather important message. There was a part of me that downright reveled in the opportunity to wordsmith with someone whose skills I admire. It is amazing how fluid a message can be with the change of just one word. Who doesn't just love writing!

I have been waiting all week to take this one small pill. It is a muscle relaxer. My metabolism is so slow, though, that I can only take one when I do not have to work for two days. Cough syrup with codeine, pain killers, muscle relaxers, antihistamines...anything that makes you drowsy...well, one dose makes me woosey for nearly two days. Not until the evening of the second day do I finally feel free of that drugged feeling.

I have been waiting all week because I have been in a lot of pain. Had I a friend here or company, I would have long ago pressed them into a back massage to see if it would help. A new ache has been the right joint of my jaw. My knee hurts and my hip hurts because I am too tired. Both keep giving way. I am too tired because I am not sleeping well. I am not sleeping well because I hurt.

Also...because I am fretting over work. Not fearful, not worried, but utterly weary of the battle.

And because my friend hurt my feelings for the first time. Words have an impact that few truly understand. Words can be so very powerful. Never did I think to hear such words from her. I tried to skip over them, but lying in bed I hear them again and again...I wonder about my own words and wonder if I have ever done the same to her without thought.

I began the day with an asthma attack. To awaken abruptly, coughing and unable to catch your breath is quite alarming. The struggle did not end with the nebulizer treatment. If not with breathing, then it is with work.

My boss is embattled and walking such a thin line. I can do little to help her and find myself adding to her burden when I fail to remain silent about the situation at work even when I want to be brave and courageous and continue to push that blasted bolder up the hill for yet another day.

We are both weary.

We both hurt.

Tonight...I am thankful for the weekend to retreat, to rest, to take respite, to have time to remember what is good and true and without repute...and...of course...I am thankful for Flexeril.

I dared to insert myself in a meeting today that I should have been invited to in the first place. I dared to prepare materials to share even though the other person should have sought them himself. I dared to smile when I was met with dismay at my presence. I dared to speak when I was not welcome. I dared to take the opportunity to further the message of our company. I dared to offer willing service to government visitors we need to accomplish our work. I dared to the benefit of our company. I dared something today...and I survived.

I worked after work. I want to archive all the old family photos that my mother discovered among my grandmother's things. This way, all of our family can have the entire set of photos once the hard copies are distributed among her survivors.

A good decision and a gift for my family. However, the reality of the task is nearly overwhelming. Tonight I have scanned for two hours straight and managed to get 109 family photos done. That is such a small number of what is left to be done.

My mother called to ask where I was on the project...I have let it go for months. She called to say that if my uncle asks the court for the photos to be divided, then I will have to give them up even if the project is not done. I've wasted six months of opportunity and may lose this precious opportunity because of his greed.

He never visited my grandmother once she was in the home. For nine years, he had nothing to do with her. But now that her estate is available, suddenly she is of interest.

Even if I do another 100 or so every night for the next month, I am not sure I will finish the collection. And working after working...is...difficult.

I was up most of the night and had to drag myself to work. Fortunately, for me, I had so much to do that I didn't even have a moment to drink the milk I had brought for lunch.

Driving home, I struggled to stay clear headed and only managed by talking to my friend on the phone. Soon after arriving home, I changed into my pajamas, slapped my BreatheRight strip on my nose, and started counting the minutes until I can go to sleep (I have to say up late enough for Kashi to do his final business of the day). My stomach growled rather loudly reminding me of my missed lunch, so I went to grill a chicken breast for dinner. I lit the grill, scrapped the grill rack clean, and waited for it to heat up. But when the timer went off ten minutes later, the grill was no longer lit. I was a bit fearful that the tank was empty, but when I tried to light it again, flames immediately engulfed the grill rack. I plopped the chicken breast down and set the timer.

When I checked it halfway, I was surprised to see that the chicken breast seemed a bit...well...crispy. Not understanding why, I nevertheless flipped it and reset the timer for another five and a half minutes. Certainly you understand my dismay to find a blackened chicken breast when I went to retrieve it from the grill. You see, I normally set the grill at high whilst it is heating up for ten minutes and then turn it down to medium and cook it five and a half minutes per side. Usually, that process results in a perfectly cooked chicken breast.

Sighing deeply, I carried the blacked lump to the cutting board and proceeded to trim off all the charcoal. I will admit that what was left was quite juicy...just nearly half the portion.

It is too bad that all of the frosted animal cookies are gone...

I will never, ever, ever understand the choices people make.

Seeing my grandmother in the funeral home today made me realize how much I appreciated not having to see my other grandmother at her service in early December. I was uncomfortable with the pressure to "view" her, with the ceremony of closing the casket during the service and opening it back up afterwards. In some ways, I thought Honey's service was more honest than this one for Gladys. Yet it was overwhelming to hear again and again how everyone noted the profound love my grandparents had for each other, how generous my grandmother was in caring for those around her. Such love they had. Such love they shared with others. Such love.

I am having a bad evening. On the way home, I wanted to go to McDonald's and drown my frustrations and hurt in french fries, but that would not be healthy...so I went to the grocery store and got some vegetables and salad fixings to go with the ten thousand chicken breasts I have in my freezer. I also bought five cloves of garlic so that I can have roasted garlic again in the near future.

I won't mention the five boxes of graham crackers, four boxes of Pepperidge Farms soft baked cookies, three boxes of vanilla wafers, two bags of cinnamon bagel crisps, and one bag of iced animal crackers that I bought as well.

The woman checking me out looked at my purchases, started to say something, looked at me, and then very wisely kept her mouth shut.

I also won't mention how many iced animal crackers I consumed after eating my grilled chicken salad. I had, heretofore, never consumed iced animal crackers. My life was the poorer for it. I am glad that this day, at least, taught me the value of iced animal crackers.

My grandmother died today, loved for 61 years by my grandfather.

Lost in her mind these past few years, she nevertheless was the woman he fell in love with on first sight. While on a double blind date with a friend, he took one look at my grandmother, tossed the keys to his friend, and hopped in the back seat after she did, much to the shock of his friend. He told me that his heart hammered wildly in his chest as he avoided his friend's eyes and hoped he wouldn't insist on changing dates. He was quite relieved when his friend acquiesced, shook his head, and opened the front passenger door for the other woman.

She was the joy of his life, his better half. Gentle and patient to the last, he would comb her hair, power her cheeks, and whisper sweet words in her ear each time he visited. To see such love made my heart ache at the beauty of it.

She was a mother who gave everything to raising her daughters, my step-mother and her sister, who died when she was a young woman. To bury a child is near impossible to bear with grace, but she did and later raised her grandson in the memory of her daughter. Culinary, sewing, and gardening arts were her domain. What she could do with plants was amazing. She was also as gentle as her husband, soft spoken and kind to all.

She was much loved...and will be missed...

ARGH

ARGH!!!!!!!!!

What is the value of free oil changes?  I see none!  Double Argh!

I drove to the auto dealer to get my oil changed.  If I get it changed there, along with my service, I have a lifetime warranty on the power train of my vehicle.  That sounds like a good deal, like a no brainer, eh?  Well, each time I come, I have to wait and wait and wait.

Just now, I marched into the office and asked to speak to the service manager, who conveniently just left for the day.  One hour I had been waiting and my car had not even moved from where I had parked it.  The service rep asked a technician walking by to immediately work on my car.  The squeaky wheel gets the grease.  Miraculously my car was ready just 30 minutes later.  

She told me that by 11:00 everything is backed up.  If I want a real appointment, it must be the first one of the day.  I told her that if their appointments take longer than the half hour they allot, then they should schedule them an hour apart.  My time is equally valuable as hers.  Why should I have to sit around and wait when I made a good faith effort to arrive on time with my car?  She told me to tell it to the service manager.  He should work Saturdays.  ALL DAY.

I shall write a letter, but what good will it really do?

Should I have just patiently waited another four hours like last time?  Why should I get better service because I lost my temper?  What about those who were still sitting in the lounge when I left?  Is their time not equally important?

What kind of customer service is it where no one is respected and where customers are left in a cold room and uncomfortable chairs as the hours pass by with no thought for their care or communication or apology?

In case you are wondering, purchasing a vehicle from Lustine Toyota in Woodbridge, VA is not a good investment.  You will pay far more for your vehicle than what is written on the bottom line of the contract.

My grandmother has been transitioned to hospice care. She is bathed and dressed and exercised and turned, all the while lying in bed. She is no longer eating. It is a waiting game.

Waiting and grieving, grieving and waiting. The prolonged goodbye is so very difficult on my grandfather. To have spent his lifetime loving this woman. To watch her suffer, helpless to alleviate her pain. Longing for one more moment with her. Wishing her suffering was past.

This is but a part of the journey.

No one ever said this life would be easy.

Today, I treated myself to time spent organizing my office, filing papers, clearing piles...etc. The question is: what bothered me enough to hide in this work?

How can one person see me a someone who could be the president of a company and another as the most destructive person at our company?

My, oh my, oh my!

Wow. I just finished dinner, and I wish it were not over.

Saturday night, when I was helping to clear the table and put away the left overs, I found myself staring at the whole roasted garlic cloves that were still in the pan with the roasting vegetables. I nearly licked my lips thinking of the possibilities and asked my writing student's mother if I could have a Ziploc bag to take them home. I am not quite sure how she perceived my request, but she is used to my culinary taking ways.

Tonight, I sliced fresh French bread and then smeared the roasted garlic on the slices. On top of the garlic went Havarti cheese with dill in it. I broiled the bread to melt the cheese, but I must admit I was getting so excited about what I was going to be eating that I put one slice in the microwave and munched on it while the rest were broiling.

Roasted garlic, done right, is soft and almost sweet. It becomes a perfect compliment to many cheeses when melted on bread or the right crackers. Once, when I was in Sante Fe, I visited a restaurant where the featured dish was roasted garlic, Brie cheese, and French bread. Twenty years later, I still have strong memories of that savory meal.

The one I had tonight tasted just as I imagined it would when I first began scooping those vegetables into a container for the refrigerator. In fact, I am a bit puzzled that it took me four days to follow through on that vision.

Now, I have to ask the chef what he put on the vegetables (garlic), what temperature he set the oven, and how long he cooked them. That way, tonight's meal may be repeated frequently for future enjoyment.

After all, twenty years between the opportunity to consume roasted garlic, cheese, and bread is far too long!

I was so busy reading yesterday that I forgot to take my medicine, including my magic arthritis pill. Getting out of bed was so very difficult, yet the remembrance of running out of sick leave last year kept me from even considering remaining at home this day.

Once I get moving, the pain is bearable, but getting moving is challenging. Even now, my wrists are stiff as is my back. The key to ease of movement is keeping up the medicine level in my blood. Tomorrow is sure to be better.

Still, I was able to read all day...a fair price.

A solid day of reading, resting, and reading some more. I am just two and a half colossal novels to go before I get to dive into Robert Jordan's new book, Knife of Dreams. Seeing there sitting on the shelf is driving me crazy! I must admit that I have picked it up on more than a few occasions with the intension of peeking a bit. Each time, my better self ruled supreme and I was able to return it to its place unopened.

I do believe that this is the second to last one in the series. For eleven books (he tossed off a prequel a couple of years ago), I had thought that the twelfth would be the last. However, I have it on very good authority that the next one should do it.

Thus far, I have read 6,834 pages. The new book has 761. And yet the story begun on the first page is not yet finished! 6,834 pages during which I have marveled at his craftsmanship and reveled in the friendship shared among the main characters.

His story is the epitome of the battle between good and evil and I have savored each and every page. He writes of love and laughter, of sorrow and loss. He writes of friendship, loyalty, and acceptance. He write of culture and belief, of vision and quest. He writes of home and family. He writes of adventure. He writes of seeking truth and knowing yourself--strengths, weaknesses, limits, boundaries, beliefs, capabilities, potential, flaws...learning these and being humble enough to understand that the learning really never ends.

Throughout it all ones one common theme: Evil flourishes by man's choice. Good conquers by man's choice.

The battle is not easy, nor can one turn aside for even one moment. Each day, each footstep, each conversation, each choice marks the path they find themselves on in this battle. Choosing good is not easy. Choosing good oft means risk and sacrifice for no promised gain other than having made the choice for good. The path is hard. The way is narrow.

Sound familiar? I would not even venture a guess as to whether or not Robert Jordan is a Christian, but I find strong parallels when I read of the life of obedience God calls us to in His Word.

No person is ever too long in the dark to turn to the Light. Each day is filled with choices. The path is hard. The way is narrow.

I had a most satisfying evening last night. Filled with games and fellowship and tasty food, what more could I want? At midnight we had some beautiful champagne and delectable strawberries, some of the best that I had ever tasted. [I did have to drive home very carefully because of that champagne.]

My writing student's father braved Beef Wellington after my haranguing him for months on end. It was not the most successful dish that he has attempted , but that truly did not matter to me. He tried and I was filled by the meal. What more could I want?

After the meal and the dishes, both of her parents listened as I read the chapter with the sermon I wrote. I found her father's response interesting because I could not discern if it was because I had not yet achieved what I wanted or because he had not read the rest of the story. The strange part was the utter silence that greeted me when my own voice fell silent. Did they like it? Did they understand what I was trying to accomplish? Did they become caught up in the scripture as I hoped, reveling in the majesty of both God and His Word?

After staying up most incredibly late two nights in a row, I have just awoken from a nap and am looking forward to another soon.

But now, I will yet again savor the memory of last night and set my keys to the story that has been woefully neglected of late. Now that the sermon is done, I must turn my attention to two noon meals that are just down the road a piece from each other but miles apart.