I keep trying to write about pain, but each time I do, I feel as if it only comes out sounding like a personal "pity party"--a phrase I particularly dislike. However, I wanted to try again.

I hurt all the time. Period.

If it is not arthritis, then it is MS. If not MS, then arthritis. And if it is not both, I am probably having pulmonary discomfort, though I admit that is much less common than the other two reasons.

For this fitness team stuff at work, I had to choose two goals. Mine were Dr. Pepper and stretching, as I mentioned previously. Well, I treated this week as a practice week, although the real practice week, as it turns out, does not start until Monday. I did not do so well with either steps or water. Stretching ought not to be considered.

The great health personnel overseeing the program determined that I should be drinking 100 ounces of water per day for "proper hydration." I stink at getting 16 down (0r whatever is in an average bottled water bottle). Water just does not taste very good to me. Plus, I get so involved in what I am doing that I find myself drinking only at meals. I have milk for breakfast, milk for lunch, a Dr. Pepper for dinner, and a small glass of Gatorade at snack time. I keep a bottle of water at my desk and try to drink it during the day, however it usually lasts several days if not the work week.

I did try the stretching, but I have only done it two days out of six. It is too painful. I am a wimp. I am a wimp even knowing that if I could find a way to push through the first few weeks, it would get better.

So, how is this about pain? I hurt all the time, even when trying to do something to have a more healthy lifestyle.

When I get up in the morning, I have to steel myself again the pain I will feel when I place my feet to the floor and bear my weight for the first time. It is as if I am standing on knives. I am also stiff and have to loosen up before I can move freely without pain.

When in a car, after a half hour of driving, I stiffen up and have difficulty exiting the vehicle. After an hour, I am in pain. After two, I am in agony. I have tried driving with pillows and moving as much as possible whilst remaining safe behind the wheel, but nothing seems to help. My back, knees, wrists, ankles, and hips protest rather vehemently my exit from the vehicle. The more I move about, the pain subsides. However, after long drives, the time it takes for the pain to do so is far longer than I would wish. I should also add that when I moving about, pushing through the pain, I have a slight tendency to be grumpy. Okay...perhaps more than slight. Sometimes I wonder that B does just through me out of her house when I arrive because instead of greeting her with the enthusiasm that reigns in my heart, I grunt hello, trying and unload the car as fast as possible, settle my pets, and then fervently hope I will feel better soon. My thoughts are mostly about me and little about her.

Sitting at my desk or in a conference chair for long periods also results in pain (and grumpiness). Riding on a plane or car hurts. Meetings hurt. Not moving for extended periods of time hurts.

Standing for extended periods of time hurts. My lower back stiffens in a different way than it does when sitting. Sometimes it feels as if it is a cramp and I try to bend over or raise one leg as if it is on a step to relieve the painful pressure. Standing for an extended period of time also hurts my feet. No matter the type of shoe or cushion sole insert, the pain begins. It is difficult to shift my weight from foot to foot because my left ankle has not healed fully from the fracture of two years ago. I can, briefly, have my full weight on it, but I cannot raise myself with that ankle at all and have to be careful when I try to stand on my tiptoes that my right foot is bearing most of my weight.

Going up and down stairs hurts. If it is not one set of muscles, it is the other. Muscle fatigue happens so very quickly. In addition, that pesky ankle makes navigating the steps downward rather risky at times. Finally, negotiating stairs upward--usually more than a single flight, but sometimes just one--finds my breathing labored and painful.

Putting my legs up for extended periods of time hurts. I have to be careful about how the weight of my legs is born. For example, I cannot have my ankles bear the weight because they become quite painful and stiff and tears will spring to my eyes when I try to move my legs. I usually try to have my calves bear my weight, but I have to do so with my knees slightly bent. I have to do so because all my joints save for my shoulders need to be slightly bent or they will hurt.

When I lie in bed, I have to have my legs bent, elbows bent, wrists bent, and fingers slightly cupped in order to be pain free. This is most easily done lying on either side, but if I do so, then some nerve in my arm is pinched, which eventually simultaneously deadens my skin, stiffens my hands, and awakens me with severe pain. I will turn to the other side or try to get myself all bent but still lying on my back. If I lie on my back, though, my lower back will stiffen up and become painful. I also have to be oh so very careful that my neck is supported since I tore the muscles in my neck in college and can get lingering cramps if I do not have the pillows just perfect. And they must also raise me up some so that I can breathe more freely while lying down.

I also have pain in my hands. They cramp severely after just short periods of repetitive motion. Washing my hair hurts. Brushing my hair hurts. Blowing it dry is out of the question.

Unloading the car and carrying groceries results in pain. B knows I prefer to shop for my groceries a month at a time, but I wonder if she connects that fact with how much it hurts me to do so. The weight of the bags hurts my elbows, wrists, and hands. Holding heaving things, even something as small as a ream of paper makes it hard to breath. Doing my one-trip-from-the-car nonsense compounds the pain, but then it is over quickly.

I could go on, I suppose. But I hope I have made my point. Living hurts. That is my excuse for being so poor at my therapeutic stretching exercises. It is a feeble excuse. After all, I ought to be used to pain. I do have that oh-so-wonderful-drug Celebrex that battles the general arthritis pain quite magnificently. Without it, I couldn't function, I couldn't work. In fact, I couldn't imagine life without it. However, it can only do so much. Far more often than I care to admit, I supplement that drug with copious amounts of Ibuprophen, but I have tried to be better about that of late.

My two thoughts about the stretching, other than why put myself through that suffering, are to somehow gather my courage to try acupuncture one time or to try having someone massage my legs before or during the time I tried stretching. However, both options costs money. The first would also entail conquering fear and trying to figure out how to determine who might be a good acupuncturist and the latter entail trying to figure out the logistics of getting a massage and then stretching right then and there instead of having to get back into a car and end up stiffening up before I could get home or finding someone willing to massage my legs while I tried stretching.

Too much thought.

Too much pain.

Have you ever envisioned something and then have it actually turn out better than you had thought it could?

I have been laboring beneath the weight of having to come up with a display for an expo table at a very important vendor fair for virtually no money.

I did find this four panel set of display boards that are covered in practically the same gray fabric that lines all of our cubicles. After staring at it for a few days, I came up with the idea to create an agency cubicle. I figured that I could scrounge out desktop items from empty cubicles, set up a Power Point presentation to run on a flat panel display (with a disconnected keyboard and mouse resting before it), and set out collateral and give aways on the "desk."

I ordered a nameplate that had the program name on it. I also ordered some 8x10 photos and clipped them to the panels just as employees do on their cubicles. In addition, I created a framed version of our logo and tag line to hang in the center of the "cubicle." Finally, I put up three pieces of paper with agency message threads on them.

I know that this might be a poor description, but I surely received the feedback for which I was hoping as my co-workers saw the display today.

"Wow!"

I was hoping the end result would be creative and not cheesy. I must say that I absolutely hit the mark. Of course, I will be spending the next two weeks printing the collateral I need for the event, including chopping up several hundred bookmarks once they roll off the printer. Still, today I could be satisfied with a job well done.

I spent over an hour today comforting another co-worker who was in tears.

I do praise God that I had the opportunity to bring Light to someone else's darkness.

Each time I do, I am reminded anew of the grace God has shown in my own frustrations with my experience at the company and with my responses to those criticisms and challenges. He has taught me much and then immediately repeatedly put me in circumstances where I can speak Truth to another who needs to hear it instead of the critical lies that have filled their ears.

My theme: It's business, not personal. Do your work heartily unto the Lord and with probity. Let everything else fall away.

I pray that I can continue to remember these things myself...

Well...I stopped wearing my Dallas Cowboy lounge pants today.

I must admit that they will not last very long if worn every day and most certainly would want to at least wear them for the games next season. So, I decided a change was in order.

When I looked in my closet on my "comfortable clothing" shelf, I realized that I had been woefully neglecting my Sugarland and Dr. Pepper t-shirts and the four pairs of lounge pants that I wear with them..

I am becoming reacquainted with them.

Today, I worked on the next Tips, Tools & Resources Fact Sheet for the parent mailing. It will not be going out until March 1st, but with a few big projects coming up, I decided to tackle the job.

This is the second one I wrote from start to finish, instead of compiling information that I researched. The first one I did was on literacy matters, so it was basically a matter of trying to figure out how to fit three college degrees on one page. This one, however, was based on a comment my friend D made a few weeks ago.

He and I, as older singles, have spent quite a bit of time hanging around families since we do not have one of our own. His comment had to do with something that had actually been bothering me for a while: even members of Christian families do not really speak kindly to each other.

He started noticing how little praise, encouragement, or gratitude was spoken. Instead, the general interchanges were filled with teasing, cut downs, and down right rude remarks. We commiserated a while about this, sharing examples less-than-kind speech and noting missed opportunities for kind words. So, when I set out to draft the resource page today, my mind kept returning to that conversation.

After a few rough starts, I settled on a way to express my thoughts: Honey Speak.

I built the piece around the adage " You will catch more flies with honey than with vinegar." It is basically filled with ideas of opportunities where families can speak words of encouragement, praise, and gratitude.

Well, I liked my idea so much that I built a wee little website around it: www.honeyspeak.com. I was having trouble getting the domain name to forward to my free website compliments of Verizon. If it is still not going through, you can see the original site here.

What do you think?

I decided to join a fitness team for this contest at work. [Don't laugh.] I did so because I wanted some folks to hold me accountable for a few fitness goals.

The company held the competition last year and decided to repeat the program. There are two categories of awards: those who take the most steps (we all have pedometers) and those who lose the most weight. I sought out some team members and signed us all up. Somehow, along the way, I managed to get myself nominated as Team Captain. [I said, "Don't laugh."]

The "nutritional consultant" has determined that I should be drinking 72 ounces of water every day. [Really, don't laugh!]

Everyone had to pick two goals. I chose 1) to stretch every day for a minimum of 30 minutes and 2) to give up drinking Dr. Pepper save for one can a week. [Fine! Laugh!]

So....how well do you think I will do???????

Ah, well...what can I say about B's visit?

Three days of lounging on the couch. Three days of stuffing ourselves with tasty food. Three days of battling wits and luck across myriad games.

A truly sublime time!

~~~~
Note: B is coming a long way towards embracing the wear-the-same-comfortable-outfit-over-and-over-again club.

B is here!

Besides give me a great big hug, what was the first thing she did? Walk straight to my microwave and find the rice button that I had been swearing was not there! Tomorrow evening we shall have Chinese food and rice made in the new rice cooker her mother gave me at Christmas!

What was the second thing she did? Immediately start putting her peanut butter cookie dough into the oven so that I could have her incredible cookies.

Now, I should note that there was some strawberry bread on the bottom of the oven that started smoking, filling up the kitchen and threatening to trigger the alarm system tied into the phone line to contact the fire department automatically. The air was a bit thick for quite a while.

I am rather reluctant to admit that the remaining work on her laptop did not go as planned. We spent a rather long while trying to get the wireless card to recognize my network. I was on hold with Linksys when B thought to reinstall the driver. That did the trick. I should have thought of that immediately, but progress was made.

However, there were many updates that needed to be downloaded and her memory is only 128 megs. The laptop only handles 256, but I found another 128 chip online for just $24.

After stuffing myself with six cookies, we played Scrabble. B was really hindered by all the downloading that was going on and couldn't easily access Dictionary.Com, a key tool we use to slaughter each other across the board. I won the game, but it was a bit of a hollow win. Still, I am back in the 600's...albeit temporarily.

We have yet to line up our moving viewing list or bring up the stack of games from the basement closet.

I cannot wait for tomorrow!

I very much dislike Valentine's Day. Very much.

It is not a day for singles. Nor is a day for a forty-year-old woman who yearns to share her life with someone who will cherish her.

We had an all-staff meeting during which I actually submitted some suggestions for ways to improve the agency. This was not the best choice since those are usually not well received no matter how often they are solicited.

Then the COO asked to talk with me...and postponed the meeting just minutes later. I very, very much dislike when someone announces that he/she needs to talk to me. I admit that I immediately and rather frenetically try to figure out what I did wrong. Now...I just have to stew...

I do not like this day. I struggle with seeing couples on a good day. On a day where expressions of love and commitment abound are ubiquitous, I find simply being alone quite difficult.

So, I worked late, late, and well...late. I didn't even roll out of the parking lot until after 9:00, which was quite unfair to Kashi. Even more so, were my tears on the phone to B when she should have been snuggled up on the couch with her husband.

While I revel in the grace God has shown me, I desire with my whole heart to not spend the rest of my life never being loved, never knowing the covering of a man.

B was kind and caring whilst I cried, but way too soon G needed to use the phone. It was with great reluctance that I said good-bye.

Still sniveling, I called my cousin D. Now let me tell you, no matter how awkward it is for him, he will go a long, long way to try and understand. Four hours later, we tabled the conversation for another day.

Yes, I have introduced D to the wonders of the marathon phone call. While we have talked for a few hours several times before, it was just last month that we had our first call of super length. I had called on the way home and ended up spending dinner and the evening with him, via the wonderful product that is unlimited night and weekend minutes!

We both prepared salads for dinner and then compared our culinary experience bite by bite. We discussed technology, photography, writing, consulting, family, pets, tennis, and his globe-trotting trips. Although many states lie between us, we could have been hanging out on the couch together.

Tonight, our conversation was similarly far ranging. Upon learning of my tears he asked a few awkward questions and then rather skillfully changed the subject. By the time we were both ready to fall into bed, it was no longer that wretched holiday.

He did admire the design of the poetry book I have created using the poems of children and youth from 8 affordable housing communities. The cover is so-so, one I had to make do with the parameters given to me. The inside, however, is totally me. Just one part I will describe: the page numbers are centered on four different geometric shapes that are in different places on different pages. For example, if there is a natural curve in the lines of the poem, I tucked the circle shape beside it. It is a bit whimsical, a reminder that this is a book of poems by children, a work of art. He found my design provocative. SMILE

Of course, Kashi and Fancy feel rather neglected. I am exhausted. And I still need to vacuum and dust before B arrives tomorrow.

I really, really do not like this day. Thank you D for carrying me across the finish line!

The power went out at work this morning. It took over an hour for the powers that be to send us home. In my opinion, the fact that a tree took down the power line should have made the decision quite obvious. I certainly could do not work without phone or computer.

On the way home, I stopped by Target to purchase a gift for my nephew on behalf of my brother and stock up on some groceries in time for B's visit. You would think that since she will be here in just two more days that I might actually let her get some work around the house, but instead I sweet talked her into playing Scrabble for a second day in a row. I am rather greedy in that regard!

She won one game. I won another. That should be a good pattern, right? Well, it actually is not so much good for me as for her. With a higher ranking, she gains more points on her wins than do I. I did manage to scrape my way back into the 600's...barely.

While it was not a snow day, getting to leave at 12:30 was a pleasant surprise. A double dose of Scrabble made it quite a good day.

A mere 4 hours and 45 minutes later, I have finally updated the maps on my Magellan!

Little did I know that this would be such a difficult task. Had I known, I still would have ordered the update. Had I known, I might have saved the arduous work until later. However, once started, I had to finish.

The good part about the update is that the software came with an AC adapter for my GPS unit. The 6000T has been great for me, even if I still get lost since I can be a bit doltish at times about following its directions. "Recalculating" and "When possible, make a legal u-turn" are phrases I hear far more often than I would like. My only wee disappointment was that it did not come with a charger for the house, only one for the car.

Over the past year and a half, I have toyed with the idea of buying one, but I didn't have to have it. I just wanted it for the convenience.

For the most part, I have been rather diligent at putting the majority of my money, even holiday gifts, toward my debt. When I have strayed, it has been to get something for B's computer or to take a colleague to a much needed lunch. I did spend a smidgen more than my Amazon.Com gift certificates totaled at Christmas. But those books have been quite helpful in keeping me occupied at home and not out engaged in activities that take money. This is in part due to my policy that if I get a new book in a series, I must re-read all the ones I have before opening the new one.

Anyhow, patience paid off in this instance because I got one for "free" with this upgrade. Of course, the charger is a necessary part of the update process since it took so blooming long!

~~~~
If you read B's blog, you will be happy to know that I have gotten her XP properly installed and Office re-installed (a better version). It sure is great to have IT folk as friends. I still need to update XP, but for that I need the installation disc for her wireless adapter since her laptop does not have an ethernet port. I am HOPING that when she arrives with the disc on Friday, the update will be a mere afterthought and not another computing ordeal. That way, we can play on-line Scrabble while she is in the green chair and I am on the couch!

If you are keeping track, she won four games in a row before I finally won again. I am in those dreaded 500's. Her favorite word from today's game: afloat.

~~~~
My legs turned into watery noodles this morning, just as I arrived at work. I felt several times before coming home. Between the constant headache and the blurred vision, I should have known something was coming. Even though I told my co-workers that I had MS, I do not think that it really registered with any of them. They were a bit taken aback as I struggled to get around before heading home.

B has been great at getting rid of her germs for our visit. I would hate to be hobbling around while she is here. Her most wonderful mother is taking over the care of her children straight from work on Friday so that B can leave earlier in the afternoon. Three days of games, gal time, and movies galore!

Well, 50 information packets, 200 magnets, and 1,000 envelopes later, I am done with the stuffing, sealing, labeling, sticking, and arranging projects I had this day. Nine and a half hours passed whilst doing so, much of which I confess that I struggled not to resent what which I was doing. Oh, how I wish I were doing else wise at work. Tomorrow I do get to write a press release...

Fancy was 85 grams on Friday. Today, she is 91 grams. Since Madison's death, she will climb up to 101 grams, but does not stay there very long. Dropping down to the mid 80's is so very dangerous for her.

I called my vet yesterday to see if I should bring Fancy in again. We made an appointment for Wednesday. Fancy trembles more, but she is eating and drinking and preening herself. All of which is normal behavior.

I am starting to think that perhaps her struggle is because she is too lonely during the week when I am at work and is just not eating enough without the company she has with me on the weekends. Today, for example, she has camped out on my shoulder for much of the day, napping and preening and nuzzling.

I found a bird at a rescue shelter, but in order to get it, I have to have two interviews and a home visit. The adoption fee would be half of the cost of purchasing a bird. However, I am leery of the interviews and home visit. Funny, I can walk into a store and walk out with a bird. But trying to rescue a bird, I have many hoops to jump through without even the guarantee that I would get the bird. That seems a bit backward to me.

I would go out tomorrow and bring home a new companion for her if it were not for the fact that a match with cockatiels is hardly a sure thing. Were she to not take to her new flock or he to her, it could depress her further. I have had her now over 6 years. I just want to do the right thing for her well-being. I simply do not know what that is.

To be honest, I should admit that my Scrabble boast of a week ago is not longer valid. Alas, the last three games I have lost. The last was by one point, but the first two losses were by large amounts of points.

My ranking in the 700's for which I launched a most rigorous campaign did not last long. One more loss and I shall loose hold of the 600's.

B's post about the wins is most humorous. She notes that when my rank falls into the 500's, I become a pointmonger. I cannot argue with that. I go for the cheap points. You see, I will play "ha" in two directions where the "h" is on a triple letter square. That's a quick 25 points. Alas, the truth is that for all my love of great words, I find myself most often going for the cheap points. B will play great words, even if doing so means getting less than 10 points. I want two dozen or more points on every play possible. Okay, let's be real: I want to win every game.

I revel in playing B. She is so smart and so crafty with whatever 7 letters arise on her screen. Half the time I am playing her, I find myself marveling at her play. However, while I wish victory for my friend always, I would like that victory to somehow magically take place without my own defeat.

You know, sometimes I feel like my obsession with avoiding smokers is taken a bit oddly by those around me. Today, I was in Costco with co-workers shopping for the upcoming training session when the issue arose.

We were sitting down enjoying a slice a pizza with our shopping done, when I smelled smoke. Now, smoking is not allowed in Costco, so I was a bit puzzled. The acrid smell triggered that familiar tickle at the back of my throat, and I thought about my inhaler back in my bag at work. I swiveled my head around trying to figure out who was the source of my potential distress so that I might effect a strategic retreat. I couldn't spot the problem and nervously bent over my pizza again. I was loathe to leave it, finding Costco pizza most tasty, but I did not relish the thought of another asthma battle. My co-workers kept telling me not to worry, but I did start a mild cough.

The problem, as near I could tell, turned out to be a very old man who was wearing smoke tainted clothing. He was wandering around, and when he came close, I was overwhelmed with the smell of smoke.


When I see smokers, I will often cross the street. If I have to pass them, say to enter a building, I will take a deep breath, cover my mouth and nose, and hustle by as quickly as possible. If I enter a restaurant that has too much smoke, I will turn around and leave. I feel badly doing so when I am with people, especially since going to restaurants has virtually been eliminated from my existence given the financial strain from which I have been recovering. Basically, I only go when I am being treated to a fine meal.

It bothers me, deeply, when I catch flack for doing so. My brother and my father, by whom I have been treated the most since I lost my job nearly two years ago, are the worst about chidding me about my worries about second hand smoke. My dad just doesn't remember with his cognitive difficulties. I think that my brother just doesn't care.

Anyhow, I read this article today about a teenager who died from an acute asthma attack shortly after arriving at a smoky bar where she worked. She had struggled with her asthma several times in the past year or so. She also avoided her meds unless she was feeling the symptoms. However, none of that should have resulted in her death.

The whole reason smoking has been banned in public places is that we know second-hand smoke kills. When you hear this, you think: Oh, yeah...lung cancer. However, second-hand smoke can be deadly for asthmatics.

I guess I am writing all this to say that I found the article quite sobering. Sometimes, I feel pressured to not be so vigilant in looking out for smokers. Today, I thought that perhaps I have been too lax of late. Dangerously so...

I printed for 9 and 1/2 hours today, at times using three different printers.

I printed 100 program cut sheets for the recruiters.

I printed 750 pages for 50 informational packets, although I still need to print the business card sized adverts for the magnets. Those pages have to be feed in one page at a time, pushing the green check button after each sheet is completely through so the printer will grab the next sheet. Once those are done, I still need to assemble those packets.

I printed 975 letters and 975 labels utilizing two black and white printers. Of course, I did run into a problem since the antiquated version of MS Word that I use refused to do the large mail merge (one that had been completed several times before). Fortunately, I had brought my laptop and was able to move the source document over via flash drive, merge them, and move them back.

I printed 1,500 of the 4,000 fliers I need for the mailing. Even if I can get the printer to churn out the other 2,500 tomorrow, I will not be able to print the 1,300 bookmarks that were to be included in the library mailings because each of those sheets (that fit 4 to a page) have to been fed the same way as the business card sheets and done so on both sides.

Alas, I am so very discouraged over what I am doing verses what I desire to be doing.

That said, I have continued to be able to serve as a source of encouragement to the two women who are going through a rough time and to do my work heartily as if for the Lord (I need to look up whether or not I ought to be doing it cheerfully as well--the verses about cheerful givers I know, but do not remember if the same holds true for workers...). I am trying to focus on serving the Lord that way instead of the arguments over toner and manual mass mailings that are filling my days.

~~~~
NOTE: Monday was filled with a monthly mailing to the parents, which includes a packet of information and much, much printing. April will be the next time I have to do this mass mailing again. Also, my headache has moved into its seventh day of existence. SIGH...

I have spent the last three days at work trying to get a toner order fulfilled after being placed last week. The order is large, granted, but it is for a mass mailing about our next training session. This will be the fourth time I have done the mailing and the third time I ordered so many cartridges for our color printer. And yet...

And yet...someone stopped the order and then questioned it for days on end.

I very much dislike the fact that I have been reduced to arguing about toner for a mass mailing that I resent I must do.

I practically melted down when I was told that the order had finally been approved, but only for 4 cartridges, not 10. I was supposed to place another order when those were done. What??? Had I not already explained that I would blow through five the first day, one to replace the cyan which was empty and then a whole set with my print job. I had even told my boss that we would most likely need at least 4 if not 8 to return us back to having a set in the printer and a set on hand status.

I was supposed to be printing every day this week to get the materials ready for the volunteer who is coming on Monday. She only comes on Mondays. Next Monday is a holiday. And the mailing is due out now. I have to get those darned letters, labels, and fliers printed! All I could see was red, red because I knew I would need to print on the weekend unless I had very long days Thursday and Friday.

At the end of three contentious days, I have been told that the order should be here tomorrow afternoon...or definitely by Friday afternoon.

ARGH!!!

From Friday through this moment, I have been sporting a rather vicious headache. It is ever present and quite painful. I have taken pain medicine, rested, and slept with cold compresses over my eyes. I find myself clenching my jaw against the pain, which only makes it worse.

What worries me is that the year I was diagnosed, I suffered this same sort of headache from May to October.

The joy of God's grace and the happiness at the victories have helped, but it has been difficult to keep my spirits up beneath the weight of this constant pain.

Tonight, I am abandoning my long-standing firm belief that milk should only be consumed ice cold. I am about to toss back a glass of warm milk and crawl into bed, thinking of non-headache thoughts.

~~~~
Note: Last night, I struggled to fall asleep because of the pain, so I threw back the covers, fetched a pair of scissors, and tended to my much-neglected bonsai. When I was finished my pruning, I watered it, breathing deeply of the damp earth. While I savor the cold and wish it lasted far, far longer than it does here in the nation's capital, I do miss the oneness that comes while working with the soil.

I have despaired over this fact with B and W time and time again. At least I am not crying over it now. What fact? The reality of my existence: Nothing is ever easy. Nothing.

My mother offered to pay for three plumbing repairs that have been wanting in exchange for helping her with her website. I readily agreed, sought out recommendations for a plumber, and awoke at the ghastly hour of 7:00 this morning to open the door to company who had the most positive reference.

I am most pleased to report that the leak in my bathroom faucet is now repaired, allowing me to remove the mason jar that had been capturing the water so that it wouldn't be wasted. I am equally pleased to note that the outdoor faucet that suffered from the same problem now leaks no more. However, I am disheartened to report that, while the toilet is no longer leaking from the flapper, I can barely flush the handle and, when I manage to do so, there is this distressing whooshing, sucking sound at the end of the process.

I called the plumbing company to come back and repair the repair. The manager said he would talk with the plumber and call me back. That was 9:00 this morning. How long do I wait?

Tiger Woods came back from behind to win by one stroke at the Dubai Classic. He had to shoot a 7 under par to put himself in contention and then wait out Els on a par 5. Just like in 2006, Els shot his chance to win in the water. Yeah, Tiger!

~~~~
As the world knows by now, the Giants also won. I am glad Eli is out of the shadow of his brother and was heartened to see Payton there heartily cheering him on to victory. I am glad Eli and Coughlin were vindicated by such a victory since the harsh and fickle fans of New York have been awfully hard on the two of them. And I was glad that the '72 Dolphins kept their place in history. Those football players played for the game, doing so for a mere fraction of what players make today. They deserve to hold that record.

~~~~
Yesterday I got to slaughter my dear friend B in a game of Scrabble even though she was ensconced with her extended family up in the Poconos. How wonderful is she to include me in her mini-vacation! I am rather grateful for the way technology has kept up close. Between the byways of the Internet and the airways of Sprint, we enjoy time together even though we are separated by miles and miles and miles. Of course, just because I was quite moved by the opportunity to play, I still felt the need to WIN!

For the record, I should note that B will be here the 15th to the 18th for a girls only long weekend. While I will revel in her presence, I will admit that, alas, most of the games we will play will not be won by me...

Fancy Gram Watch: 93

Today was a perfect reflection of God's grace.

I spent much of the day thinking about yesterday and how perfectly clear it was to me that I needed to be at my job in that valley so that I could be a light to someone who would be faced with some of the same darkness. It is difficult to describe how I could ache with tears over her hurt and yet want to dance for joy for the perfect sovereignty of God.

Well, as if I needed another reminder of His grace, I had a co-worker call me this evening, broken over her marriage and a serious financial hole her husband tumbled them both into without thought to the repercussions of his actions. I found myself, for the second time in two days, serving as a beacon of the Truth of Christ and His Word.

It is funny how much counseling I have absorbed from W over the long tenure of our friendship. I was able to help her work through some of what she was thinking and feeling and point her back to the crux of her marriage and life: Jesus Christ.

Furthermore, I was able to share godly examples of the ways between a husband and wife from not only B's life, but from the woman I was with yesterday. Circles of light shed from life to life.

For all the tears I have shed, two days in a row I was privileged to staunch the tears of a sister with the Truth of Christ.

I am not where I wish to be. I struggle with feeling like a failure all the time, feeling as if I have spent the last decade waiting for the opportunity to do what I am capable of doing and yet only find myself in menial labor again and again and again. I produce high quality work and yet I am neither adequately compensated for it nor truly acknowledged for the value added. I have been attacked while trying to work with integrity, and I find myself working with less than sane folks making less than healthy business decisions again and again. And yet...

And yet...God is sovereign. I believe he brought me to this job. While it is not where I would place myself, my time has not been wasted in the Kingdom of God even if there have been no earthly rewards. I admit that I wish those would come, but I revel in the grace God has shown me in the past two days.

I have been through a dark storm at my job and have questioned often why God would lead me to such a place once more. After all, I am so very tired. I want a place where I can contribute. I want a place where I am welcomed. I want a place that is stable and healthy and honest. This is definitely not what I have experienced since walking in the doors that first day.

However, this day I know the why of it...at least in part. There is another child of Christ who has been hurt and broken and beaten down at work. A change in leadership brought about an unexpected change in how she was treated. I noticed the change and have puzzled over it. I even found myself in the uncomfortable position being caught in the middle of her messy situation. I have worried a bit and wondered what I could do or even say.

Yesterday was the breaking point for her, a time when she truly despaired of her future and wanted to flee. I didn't stop her. After all, I would be a hypocrite had I done so. I was, however, able to support and encourage her with words laden with the authenticity born by my own battles at work.

As I spoke to her, I found myself marveling at the mighty act of peace God has wrought in me over where I am. I still struggle with whether it is right to remain in a place where I question the integrity of its leadership and where the most unhealthy dynamics flourish. However, I cannot deny that God has been light to the darkness there.

For the third time, I found myself being able to comfort and encourage another sister in Christ. Over and over, I see small changes that have come about by remaining steadfast in my commitment to excellence and integrity. I have finally learned to stop trying to please people at work or caring over much about how I am perceived or even appreciated.

Since the middle of December, I have gone to work each day with the mind set that I wish to work heartily for the Lord. I have set goals based on what I believe I can accomplish despite the restrictions and limitations I face. I have steadily build a solid platform for whatever comes next, whether I am the one doing the work or not. And I have been incredibly productive at producing high quality work. While much has happened that practically scoffs at my labors, I have found satisfaction in knowing that I have given a solid witness. Oh, how I have learned to turn the other cheek.

It was an honor, therefore, that my experiences and lessons might be a comfort to another. We do not always get to see the hand of God at work. What grace He bestowed upon me to glimpse for but a moment some of the why of my life!

I am cold. I have been nudging the thermostat up all evening. At my last check, it read 76 degrees. And I am still cold.

I called B to tell her that. She is miserable with the 400th cold she has had since Thanksgiving, and yet I wanted her to know that I am cold.

Now, I have way too much blubber on my body to be cold. Truly, it is a veritable mystery. I mean, really, think about it. 76 degrees is enough to send me to my knees, to cloud my mind and tremble my limbs. 76 is stinking hot for me.

So, please tell me...why is 76 so blasted cold just now?

On this day, many moons ago, God gave life to my dear friend B. That was a good day.

This day is a day to celebrate her life. It is also a day to be thankful for the love she has poured over me, the encouragement she has showered upon me, and the chastisement she has gently given me. It is a mighty work of God that she walked into my classroom one day.

I have learned of the fragrance of Christ from her. I have learned of light and salt. I have learned of forgiveness and acceptance. I have learned of faith.

I have learned trust, friendship, and sacrifice.

I have learned love.

When I was there at Christmas, the days passed with things that needed to be done taking priority over my desire (albeit a selfish one) to fill them with games and movies and copious amounts of B time. One morning, I took Kashi for his morning walk, grumpily thinking about how I had had practically zilch time to spend with B when I was sleeping beneath her own roof. Well, I walk back inside and find the B has set the DVD ready to start a movie I had brought for her to see and had set up the game Sorry for us to play. I walked back inside to a great big gigantic "I Love You" from a woman who never ceases to amaze me at the magnitude of the gift God gave me in her.

I could spend a week with her wearing my Dallas Cowboy lounge pants and she would not bat an eyelash. I could fall asleep on her couch in the afternoon when she needed help getting ready for visitors and she would only hope that the vacuum would not disturb me. I could eat up her sumptuous peanut butter cookies, leaving her a quite empty jar, and she would be glad that I enjoyed her cooking. I could cry and question and whine a bit and she would accept the place where I am. I could slaughter her in Scrabble in my ruthless attempt to break the 700 mark in my score and she would play me again and again. I could guffaw loud enough to turn heads and garner stars and she would revel in my laughter. I could be ill and tired every day of our friendship and she would stay by my side and wish me well.

Yes, oh my yes! This day is a good day.

Tiger Woods is winning. All is right in the world.

94 grams. Fancy has lost three tail feathers. I am not sure how much they weigh, but could I not ascribe a gram or two more for that sake?

This evening was so very wonderful. I managed to get to my bible study with the help of the pastor who teaches it. You see, I really have rather rotten short term memory. Those brain cells seem to be those most affected by those things wreaking havoc in my body. I make lists. I plan. I set up reminders. I used electronic aids. Still, I forget.

The pastor, bless his heart, emailed me several reminder, the last one in all caps. Even so, I had come home and crawled into my pajamas and thrown myself on the couch before I remembered once more that I was going to make my way to the bible study come rain or sleet or snow.

The bible study, as I have mentioned before, is one my writing student's mother found on the Internet. It is taught by a Lutheran pastor and attended by members of his congregation. It meets every other week when not in conflict with the church calendar, i.e., that is not during advent or lent. Oh, yeah, the people who come are all quite old.

When G and I first arrived, I looked around, felt stupid for crashing some geriatric gathering, and wanted to leave. However, half way through the bible study I realized what a privildege it was to be with folks who still hungered for the Word of God after an entire lifetime.

The pastor teaches as if it were some sort of seminary class. Well, at least he teaches straight from the bible, giving historical and theological background. Each time I go, I am blessed by my time there. I am challenged by God's Word. And I revel in the time of study.

Anyhow, G picked me up and off we went. I was keen to get there because this was to be the only one before Lent begins, which means that we wouldn't be meeting again until after Easter. Since this was a one-timer, the pastor was teaching on a separate topic, rather than continue our study of Isaiah. He chose to read about the Ethiopian Eunuch in Acts 8. Read that chapter and then Isaiah 53 (where the Eunuch was reading by the side of the road) and then in Isaiah 54 and 56 (where he most likely continued reading).

If you read in Acts, you learn that this nameless official of the court of Candace (a rank, not a name), you would learn that he was coming back from Jerusalem where he went to worship the Lord. Now, if you are like the Pastor, you would remember how Deuteronomy tells us that eunuchs were not allowed in the temple. And if you carry a layout of the temple in your mind, you would remember that the court of the Gentile was the outermost place. So, you would realize that this was a very disappointed man having been rejected in his attempt to worship the god he had been reading about in the Isaiah, the purchase of which points to his commitment to to discovering truth given the outlay of monies that purchase would have involved. However, all I knew was that he was on his way back from Jerusalem...that is, it was all I knew until Pastor started teaching.

The Holy Spirit sent Philip to meet the eunuch. When the apostle heard him reading, he asked him to share. The passage that follows in Acts is a quote from Isaiah 53, the passage of the suffering servant.

He was oppressed and He was afflicted, yet He did not open His mouth; like a lamb that is led to slaughter, and like a sheep that is silent before its shearers, so He did not open His mouth. By oppression and judgment He was taken away; and as for His generation, who considered, who considered that He was cut off out of the land of the living, for the transgression of my people to whom the stroke was due?

The eunuch was moved by hearing of Christ, seeing how He, too, was rejected and He, too, had no hope of descendants. He asked Philip, probably rather tentatively, if, given that there was water nearby, there were any reason why he could not be baptized. He probably was expecting to be rejected once more. However, Philip replied with the Truth that the eunuch should have encountered in Jerusalem. All that was necessary was for him to believe in Christ.

He confessed his belief and was baptized. The Holy Spirit whisked Philip away. And the eunuch went on his way rejoicing.

Pastor asked us how Luke could have known that the eunuch went on his way rejoicing. A good question, eh? He posited that perhaps the eunuch, thrilled by what he had discovered in chapter 53 of his Isaiah scroll, kept reading, especially since he had a long drive home in that chariot of his. If he did, he would have read how God would use the barren one to establish His generations. The eunuch was barren. Another connection.

If he read further, he would have found that the text written 700 years before he took a breath were the lines that shaped his life. In chapter 56, he would see that God would preserve justice, far from treatment the eunuch found at the temple. He would see that God would have the foreigner welcomed and the eunuch given a name and a house within His walls and generations beyond him. Justice. A Name. Belonging. Future Generations. Promise after promise that spoke to the empty corners of the eunuch's heart.

Still, that is only supposition, right? How did Luke know that the eunuch went on his way rejoicing? Well, tradition among early Christians holds that this eunuch went on to become the father of the Coptic church in Ethiopia, one of the oldest expressions of Christianity that survives to this day, a church from which came Clement of Alexandria, Origen, and Athanasius. It is a church hard pressed on all sides, yet one that has stood fast against the rise of Islam to hold to the Truth of God's Word.

2,000 years later, I am reading in God's Word of a man who read God's Word written 700 years before him. I am reading of the power of faith even when faced with absolute opposition. I am reading of a man who was nameless and barren and had no place. Yet God had a plan. He spoke to Isaiah for all the generations to come. He also spoke to a single man. And He spoke to me.

The eunuch was in the desert, literally and figuratively, when He was quenched by the Living Water of Christ. The eunuch's life had been as God had purposed to bring him to a point where he was reading a scroll of Isaiah on a road at a time and place that was perfect in God's time and in God's plan.

Is not God's sovereignty a marvelous and wondrous mystery?

Fancy has slipped down to 83 grams. I just do not know what is her problem. She has definitely started to molt, which is a stressful time for her. However, she has never made it above 103 grams and her normal weight is 115. So, 83 is incredibly dangerous. I am worried for her. Short of shoving food down her beak, I do not know what to do...

I am not a Monday person. I cannot seem to start a week feeling anything other than tired, exhausted, and a bit frustrated. I cannot manage to go to bed early on Sunday evenings. I find myself tackling chores or reading a book late into the evening. I work some and get in a bit of organization. Seemingly, I do anything but get rest.

Now, from Friday evening until Sunday evening I do plenty of resting. Truly I cannot do much else. I sleep long hours, lounge on the couch, take naps, and rest some more. Still, Sunday evening finds me lingering awake until well after midnight.

I practically leap for joy on Monday holidays. I actually have not worked at a place that observed them in a long, long while. My current employer only observes two besides the big ones (Labor Day and Memorial Day). Today is one of them.

I read books all day. I napped twice. I was a bum.

So, will I get to bed at a decent time so that my Tuesday is not a Monday? Let's hope so...

I was quite dismayed to find last evening that Fancy weighed 97 grams. After all, she is going in the wrong direction.

Well, I cannot begin to express my frustration when I arrived back home from leading my father back home to pick up Fancy, weigh her, and discover that she now weighs 90 grams! What is wrong with her? Did she feel neglected while Dad was here?

I have been trying to decide if Fancy is molting or not. She has lost four wing feathers and two tail feathers (all while she was still 101 grams). She has also lost some body feathers. Around her neck, on her cheeks, and her on her crest, she does have some new feathers coming in. However, I haven't found a mass of feathers lining the bottom of the cage and flying around the room. When she molts, she does get stressed and looses weight, but nowhere near to the degree that Madison did. And...when she did, her usual weight loss was a mere 10 grams. 97 grams puts her nearly 20 grams below her usual weight.

ARGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I also really wanted to watch the Packers/Giants game, but I am so tired that I fell asleep some time during the first quarter and slept through the entire second quarter and half-time. Fancy did take a nap with me, tucked beneath my chin.

I wish I understood what she needs to get back to her usual weight...

My father got lost on the way home. This was not a good ending to a good visit (a visit made better by the fact that he bought me seven movies from the $5--it has dropped from $5.50--DVD bin at Wal-Mart).

His Garmin Nuvi 660 stopped navigating. Once he realized that he was in trouble, my father turned around and made his way back toward my house. Only...he over shot it by a few miles. Somehow he ended up at a movie theatre, parked his car, and asked someone to use a cell phone. I am thankful that one man took pity on him and called me.

Once I met up with him at the theatre, we had to go searching for his car because in all his confusion over being lost, he lost track of it. My poor father was literally blue with cold when I found him standing outside the theatre. He shivered beside me in the car as we wove our way through the aisles until we found his car and then dropped his keys four times trying to make his cold-stiffened hands work.

The plan then shifted to his coming home with me one more night. After getting gas for his car and for mine and picking up a hamburger from Ruby Tuesday's (a compromise since I did not want to go to a restaurant in my Dallas Cowboy lounge pants), we headed home and watched two more movies: Outbreak and True Lies.

He is in bed asleep now. I drew a map that would take him between my house and his in the hopes that he can get home tomorrow. However, I am not sure if putting him on the road without his cell phone (he forgot it at home) and without his Garmin (remember that is not not working just now) is the best idea. I thought about driving him half-way home, but I am not sure if my step-mother would meet me.

She is angry about all this. She thinks he broke the Garmin, but I know that he did not. All he did was change the navigation setting from Fastest Time to Off Road. You see, on the way here, he ended on up on beltway (never a good thing) and wanted to avoid doing so again on the way home. In truth, I was the one who actually changed the setting. So, if changing a setting is what broke the GPD unit, then it is my fault. This is actually the second one he has had because the first stopped working just a couple of weeks after he got it. I personally think that it is not the right unit for him. While my Magellan sometimes is fussy about entering addresses (and downright troublesome at this intersection near B's house), I think it is more user friendly for someone who needs repetitive actions to reinforce his memory.

For example, each time I route to a place on the Magellan, I am given the option of four navigational settings (Fastest Time, Shortest Distance, Most Use of Highways, and Least Use of Highways). On the Garmin, you set the navigation in a tool menu that is three screens separated from the routing menu and that process has to be repeated each time you want to change it. I just choose the navigational preference as a part of my routing.

Dad is 66 (I think...I need to do the math and it is much to late for mathematical computations). He is entirely too young to be having these problems...but he will not go to see a doctor about it and my step-mother will not take him either. She complains that he stays in the house too much...but really...if you got lost when you went out, wouldn't you choose to stay home? Being lost is quite frightening and a bit depressing. Because of the MS, I struggle with navigation myself when it comes to new places or those visited infrequently. I understand the fear and the frustration and the self-recrimation. I don't blame him for staying home and playing Spider on the computer.

I also happen to think that it must be terrifying to be my father right now...to know that his mind is failing. Oh, he is young...much, much too young for this.

My father is over this evening (he is braving my germs). We are in the midst of another movie marathon. Thus far, we have watched The Breach, Casino Royale, The Gauntlet, Turner and Hooch, and The Bourne Ultimatum. We have many more to get through if we are to finish the pile my father brought with him.

For dinner, I made him some of those triangle pasta stuffed with spinach and mozzerella cheese (the last of them I have on hand), steamed broccoli and carrots (made with the steamer B's mother gave me for Christmas), and a wild greens salad with dried cranberries, feta cheese, and sunflower seeds. He found the meal to be rather tasty. Having a raspberry fruit chiller for dinner was sublime to him. I think I have made another convert of those delicious frozen treats.

The only down side to this current movie fest is that even though he came over in broad daylight and with the assistance of his Garmin, it took my father over two hours to make a 45 minute drive. I welcome the company, but I fear I should not keep encouraging him to visit.

Snow!

Fancy is hovering around 101 grams. That is 14 grams less than her normal weight. For those of you who are not mathematicians, that is nearly a tenth of her body weight. On a bird, a tenth is a huge proportion. I can feel her keel bone so clearly whenever I hold her.

When I arise in the morning (after I have forced myself to leave the bed), I don my clothing, let Kashi outside, and retrieve Fancy from her cage. She perches on my shoulder while I eat and finish getting ready. Then I put her back in the cage, whisper sweet nothings into Kashi's ear, and leave my babies at home. When I return from work, Kashi goes back outside and Fancy perches on my shoulder again.

My evenings are spent reassuring either Kashi or Fancy that he/she is loved and cherished. Sometimes Fancy falls asleep on my chest, tucked up beneath my chin. Kashi will sleep at my feet to re-assert his claim to top pet in the household. Sometimes Fancy hangs out on my knee or foot as I stretch out on the couch, preening herself from wingtip to toe. But, sadly, sometimes she merely huddles and shakes and assumes the most pitiful affect imaginable.

I do not know if getting another bird is best for her, because she has reverted to treating me like her flock once more. I just don't know if being alone all day is what is keeping her from being able to get back to her normal fighting form. Is she merely taking a while to gain her weight back or is her heart breaking most of the day?

I wish I knew...

~~~~
NOTE: Kashi does not like me to sweep anything, either with a broom or with my hand. He will attack both in protest. Fancy, it turns out, vehemently protests when I brush my hair. She scolds me most energetically, pecking at the back of my hand in between her tirades.

Neither of my pets understand that I am the one in charge.

SIGH

You know the adage "anticipation is half the fun"? How true is that in your life? I, for one, have most often found that the anticipation is nearly all the "fun"--all because what I anticipated never quite realized into what I had envisioned.

That is until now.

I have kept meaning to write of my culinary joy. For months I have meant to set down on the screen how I feel about my new knife. You see, for a couple of years, I have wanted a santoku knife. For many years now, I have been working on establishing a knife collection ever since my brother gifted me with a set of Henckles steak knives. I then got a tomato knife and a boning knife. Next came a butcher's block for storage. I had thought that my favorite "knife" was going to be my kitchen shears (they fit so perfectly in a small spot in the center of the block), but I was wrong...so wrong.

I was down to two slots left. One is for a cleaver and one was the size of a chef's knive. I knew what I wanted there. I wanted the santoku. It is ubiquitous on cooking shows and always seems to be a very effective tool for the on-screen chef. The way their hand could curl around the handle and be supported off the surface of the cutting board was so compelling to watch. The santoku comes with a straight surface or one with little divots that make whatever you are cutting just fall off the knife quite beautifully. I am not sure if I would ever use a cleaver (though I still want one to finish up my collection), but I just knew that I would use that santoku.

I told myself that if I were to ever get a job, that the knife would be my celebration gift, even though after 13 months I had absolutely no business spending money on anything that was not absolutely necessary. Still... I really wanted that knife.

Well, in the nearly six months I have had my beloved knife, I have never ceased to marvel at how much having it actually exceeded my expectations and anticipation. Holding it is ever so comfortably. Chopping is a breeze. What more could you want? Well, I must add that I even feel a bit empowered when I am using it to prepare my food.

Seriously, now, I truly think that if you cook at all and do not have one you should pop out and fetch one post haste. Just don't forget to check for the divots!

B's grandmother was laid to rest today. She is now with Jesus.

I saw her at Thanksgiving and again at Christmas. She was lively and loving and asked after my trip from Virginia. I could not know then that 13 days later she would be dead. If nothing else, her death is a reminder to cherish the time you have with those you love.

I won't even pretend to say that I knew her. But I do know of her son. And I know her granddaughter. While I was visiting both holidays, I saw her son care for her in a loving and diligent manner, much as he has done for his family. For over a decade, I have been the recipient of her legacy in the loving gift that is B's friendship.

B's grandmother had a beautiful and enduring footstep on this world. She walked with Christ. She cared for those around her. May she now rest in His arms.

My 'Boys did not show up for the game. Sadness abounds...

W was married today! For a very long time I have thought she would make someone a good wife, a true and loving partner. God thought so, too.

There was a time, a while ago, when W was deeply hurt by some fellow Christians and circumstances she could not understand. She wrapped herself in darkness and embraced every brimstone, fire, and damnation verse of the bible. She could see no good in the path God chose for her. Yet, she walked by faith, even if her steps were a bit hesitant at times.

His ways are not our ways. His timing is not often as we would choose ourselves. But both are always for the good. Always!

I praise God that He brought W and J before Him this day in a union that will honor Him, a union that will certainly be a witness and testimony of the grace of His Son Jesus Christ.

It was a crazy busy day with another mailing to wrap up before the post office closed at 9:00 this evening. It was a day filled with hasty design and printing for a last minute item. It was a day marked by stuffing and sealing and labeling.

It was marked by another donation of luggage for the foster children so that they would not have to move from home to home in garbage bags.

It was marked by yet another last minute, near impossible task.

And it was marked by the first real opportunity to present and discuss my strategic vision and communications plan for the agency. For one whole hour, I was able to revel in analysis and planning and weighing how such strategic direction might benefit the agency. It was simply wonderful.

I had nary a spare moment for my lunch or a Dr. Pepper, but it did not matter. Then came the icing on the cake: my writing student came over for dinner and a movie (actually two of them).
It was great to see her and to hear a bit about college. After such a day, I just wanted to relax and savor the day. Doing so was far, far better with company.

Oh, yeah...I should note that she found the spinach stuffed pasta triangles tasty!

When I was with B, I learned that she could not easily recycle her paper board. Since I can, I flattened all that I could find and brought it back with me.

I swaggered a bit with her about my recycling efforts, even knowing that she composts. I wondered this morning if perhaps I had no ground to stand upon. You tell me...

Every other week, I put out a bin stuffed with recyclable materials: glass, plastic, aluminum, newspaper, cardboard, and paperboard. I have gotten to the point where I put out my trash can every 6 to 8 weeks. The time extended from 4-6 weeks because I started saving all my junk mail and paper to take to work since there is a big shredder there and the paper is recycled. So, where trash goes, I have about one kitchen-sized bag a week. Is that still too much? Should I have so much recyclables? The Gatorade I enjoy so much comes in big plastic bottles. Should I give it up? Should I be trying to reduce my recyclables?

But, I wonder if I am not doing enough. I do not throw out my scraps; they go down the disposal. Should I try to compost them? I do not have very many. Would it make a difference?

I teased B about how much she stuffs in her dishwasher. Frankly, I think it is too much for cleanliness. My dishwasher is a small one to fit in my microscopic kitchen. I do not always use it, since I pretty much use the same dishes again and again. But...should I be stuffing it more?

My quarterly water bill averages about $25. There is only me to shower. And, since I prefer to blanch myself while bathing which is hazardous to my health, those showers tend to be around 5 minutes. I do tend to wait until I have large loads of laundry before I set out to clean my clothes. But is that enough?

I use CFL bulbs, but B unplugs her appliances and electronics. I don't really do that. She also turns off lights when she leaves the room and rarely uses her porch light. I leave my porch lights on all night. But then again, she has G. I am alone. I should do more.

I thought I was green enough to brag, but perhaps not. Are you?

I am delighting in the gift that is T. God has showered down blessings on me. I was having a bit of a bad day, a bit low in spirits. I had to pop out of the office for a bit, so thanks to my good friends at Sprint, I was able to get in touch with T. What a felicitous call it was.

T. is taking piano lessons. I heartily believe that this is a good thing for her and something that is altogether satisfying to know my dear friend is finding joy in music of her own making. Well, by and by when I called T was practicing. What beautiful timing. She serenaded me whilst I was driving, brightening my entire day.

Sharing song is a special thing. It is a moment where you shed self and revel in the music. It does not matter if you sound wonderful or play to perfection. What matters is the sharing.

T didn't worry about how she sounded or if all the keys were struck perfectly. She was giving me a gift. None of that mattered.

I thank God for the woman He created in her and for bringing her into my life.

I have been remiss in reporting that the stars are aligned in a strange and unusual fashion just now.

How do I know this? I am on this really, truly amazing win streak in Scrabble against B. I have been winning game after game after game. While she has not much enjoyed my success since it means the lack of hers, I have had enjoyment aplenty for the both of us.

I am not sure why, but tiles have been falling into bingos. The high score ones have come my way. I have even gotten a few question mark ones, tiles that usually go to B.

I am trying to break 700 in my ranking, but that might mean B dropping into the 300's...and I panic whenever I fall below 600. I ought not to aspire to such lofty places when it means my dear friend must stay in the basement to do so.

Still, since over the past year the loss has more commonly been mine, I am enjoying the shoe being on the other foot!

I am still really stiff, with all my bruises now turning a sickening green. I guess I could try out for "My Favorite Martian" should there be a remake. The inside of my right arm, the part that was dragged along the railing as I tried to stop myself, is still really swollen. I would think that I broke something except that if I did, it would bend in the wrong place. I am not much good right now. Sleepy because the pain wakes me up. Grumpy because I am in pain.

Prime Dr. Pepper time, right?

At least the debacle gave me the opportunity to reorder the books on that shelf...silver linings...

Okay, I am not backing away from my post of a few days ago, but I will say that I discovered that there is such a thing as financial resolutions.

I am not making any.

However, I did read this interesting article about things you can do to save money. One was to eat out of the recesses of your pantry more often. I can do that.

I poked around a bit and choose a few things to eat that would qualify. I even moved them to the lowest shelf in the cabinet just above my cutlery so that I will not forgot. Two of them are things that my dear friend T let me have when she was cleaning out her kitchen this past summer. The potatoes are expired...but...well...how can dried potatoes expire? I am sure I will be fine.

For the sake of honesty, I shall admit that there are no soups in that collection of eat-first-items. I am avoiding them.

Did you know about financial resolutions? They seem not to be so new. Are they there because Americans stink at saving money compared to many other nations? Perhaps they exist because we are in a colossal mess in our economy due to poor fiscal stewardship in the part of those who took mortgages that were beyond those means and the irresponsible lenders who allowed them to do so?

Hmm...financial resolutions. What would you resolve, were you to be resolving financially speaking?

No resolutions for me this year. None. Nada.

Nor shall I reflect on all those from last year that are still pending. That would be too discouraging. I shall finish them. I shall. However, I most assuredly shall not foray into the realm of resolutions ever again.

I shall hope for a more productive year. I shall hope for victory over debt. I shall hope for a deepening of faith. I shall hope for peace with God's will.

I shall strive to be the fragrance of Christ to those around me, to be light and salt to them.

May that be enough.

~Selah

I tumbled down the stairs yesterday.

I tumbled down and had the bookcase fall upon me.

I tumbled down because I missed a step.

I missed a step because I was having an asthma attack.

One trip to the ER. One trip home with many, much swollen and grotesque bruises and a sprained shoulder. One sleepless night because of pain. One day writhing in the green chair. I think I shall be ruing yesterday for quite a few more days.

I was ever most productive at work. That has been my goal of late. I am not sure how sustainable it can be, but I have been making a serious effort to do so.

Mostly, it is a self-preservation mechanism. Partly, it is a desire to do my work "heartily as if for the Lord."

I have been most frustrated at this job. I can do ever so much and yet everything is hurry up and wait. Design this. Oh, there is no budget for printing. Plan this. Nope, not yet. I have become skilled at mass mailings, having gotten them down from fifteen business days to five, even with doing all the writing, designing, printing, stuffing, sealing, labeling, and stamping myself. 1000 pieces of sheer boredom. I do it, because I am fettered at my own job and there is no one to do this work.

At times, I am so disheartened by doing mailings when I have a Ph.D., when I have skills and talents that are being wasted. In between the mass mailings, there are the monthly mailings to the foster and respite parents. I design, write, print, stuff, seal, label, and stamp those as well. In between the mailings, I get to research a bit, write a bit, and plan a bit. But most of that has gone ignored for the most part. My strategic plan and communications plan has been sitting for three months. I have ideas. I have skills. I have vision.

Sometimes, I feel as if I have been waiting my whole life to do that which I could do. At 40, I am running out of time.

Anyhow, I made it through that party and decided that in order to survive, I had to shift my focus to what I can do rather than what I cannot. God is sovereign. He gave me this job. While I can see no purpose and want to leave, I shall honor Him in the days I have left.

Hence, this was a most productive week. And...I shall celebrate by taking a vacation day on Monday so that I have from now until Wednesday free from my work the burden it has become.

One newsletter. One Tips, Tools & Resources. One very long weekend to rest in the satisfaction of a job well done.

Christ was not born this day. I am not so foolish as to believe that He was. It is, however, a day set aside to celebrate His birth, to savor this most precious of gift God bestowed upon us.

I celebrate His birth. I rail at how commercialized this day has become, but I celebrate His birth.

However, should not we, who call upon Christ as our Savior and Lord, celebrate His birth every day? Why should one day be more important than any other. We know that the shepherds were in the field when He was born. We know that the typical time for that to have happened was Spring to Fall. I could go on and on about how man decided this arbitrary date. However, the evidence and historical path to this date really does not matter. What matters is that man decided.

I could wish that man decided a few other things about this date than those we have now. I mean, the celebration of the birth of the Savior of the world is also the day by which retailers mark the health and well-being of our economy. How twisted is that? He who tells us to deny ourselves, to lay down everything we have and follow Him is celebrated by mass accumulation of goods? By people often extending themselves in to serious debt just to do so?

I received presents this year. I am thankful for them, thankful for the financial ones that have helped to whittle down my own debt from being unemployed for so many months. But, oh, I could wish I had the will power to say please do not give me a gift. I choose to honor this day for what it should be, not what it has become.

Should I? Should Christians eschew the giving and receiving of gifts? Or do they not matter since this is really an arbitrary day that holds not real place in history?

E, B's young daughter, is gaining much skill in her application of my make-up.

She carefully spreads my moisturizer and then pats on my foundations. Her powering could use a bit more coverage, but at least she no longer feels the need to do my eyes and ears. She can swipe on my eyeshadow with good coverage and has learned to concentrate the application of blush on my cheeks. I do the eyeliner and mascara, modeling for her that when it comes to sticking things near your open eyes, you should always do it yourself.

I enjoy getting ready with E. She is oh so very serious about helping me. She is her most patient and her most gentle while doing so. When we are sitting together, peering into my mirror to check her work, I forget at times that there is nearly 37 years difference between us. In that mirror, I see the young women she might become.

I see her curiosity. I see her tenacity. I see her wonder.

Once again, I will say that I am much cared for while in B's home.

I must admit that I was in grievous error: I was wrong. Yes, as difficult as it is to actually type those words, I would be remiss in not doing so.

I post here for all the world to know that I was wrong.

Hark, all who can hear (read)...let it be known from this day forth and forever more that I was wrong in disparaging B's culinary preferences.

She liked the spinach-stuffed triangle pasta!

I have the J magic!

I tease B rather mercilessly that I have the magic with her young son. Of course, I am telling the most absolute truth when I do!

I believe that one of my all time favorite experiences has been to get him up from his nap. From the moment I met little J, he had this magic way of smiling at me. It is a slow smile, a sweet smile that lights up the whole room. When B came to help me out when I had surgery last April, right before I had to go in, J woke from his nap. There in the waiting room, I called his name. J. J. And there it was. His beautiful smile. A moment a peace and joy to savor instead of holding on to the angst that filled me.

I think the truth of it is that I channel the magic from his smile. When we know he is awake, I volunteer to go fetch him because I know what will come of it. I peak my head into the door and call his name in a silly, sing-song fashion. J. He greets me with that smile and my heart overflows.

I scoop him up and toss him on the changing table where he is most docile for me, despite my fumbling around with those blasted snaps that seem to come on just about ALL clothing for children. He doesn't mind. I have the J magic.

Twice I have even trimmed his nails whilst he lay patiently waiting on me. And a few times I even sucked out the muck from his nose with nary a cry. Miraculous, eh?

B sometimes has to throw a leg over him just to get his diaper changed (she is a true contortionist). He throws fits when she tries to clip his nails. He vehemently protests her removal of his muck. She does not have the J magic. I do.

Now that he is a wee little man of one, we share the most special of moments whilst I am changing him after his naps. He lies there on the table, telling me all about his dreams and thoughts and wonders. He claps his hands together for emphasis at times. He smiles at me and even chuckles a time or two. It is a marvelous magical moment. One that B allows me to have as much as I want.

Now, tell me, is that not the sign of a true friend?

I am resting in the bosom of my best friend and her family. I have safely arrived after driving far too tired for such a distance. I am here.

When I was leaving at Thanksgiving, B's husband G completely surprised me when he kindly observed how well I fit into his family and invited me to come again at Christmas.

Remember how that visit went? Serious asthma attack. Injured bird. He wanted me back? Surely it was that third helping of turkey and dressing talking, eh?

Well, after I returned home and sufficient time for digestion and reflection had passed, I asked B if G was serious. He was. I came.

While driving, I realized that I was quite tired. Too tired, in fact, to be behind the wheel of a multi-ton vehicle, especially once filled with my puppydog, my bird, and my laptop...and me, I guess. B talked with me once I realized I needed assistance, but when she asked if it was all right to pop in the shower before I arrived, I acquiesced, knowing that I would probably keep her up past her bedtime. But I was ever so tired.

Knowing my brother in CA would still be awake, I called him for help. BIG MISTAKE. After a short while, he told me he didn't want to talk to me because we had already talked that week, he belittled my need, called me ridiculous, and hung up on me. I was in tears.

I drove up to B's house in tears. I was fighting them back as I smiled and embraced her, greeted heartily by both B and G. My brother doesn't understand why I would choose to spend the holidays with B's family rather than mine. When I tried to explain, a few days ago, tried to explain that there was no fighting, no criticism and that there was love and peace, his repeated response was that our family was not perfect.

Well, neither is B's. She and G get frustrated with each other, with their children. B and G wish some things were different. But B and G don't judge. They don't weigh and measure every thing you do, how you dress, your weight, your hair, your work. They just love and accept you as you are, even celebrating those flaws (micro in my case) you might have.

I am disappointed that I let my family get to me at this special time B and G are giving me with their family. I need to wrap up my tears and set them aside.

I cannot begin to describe how wide and how deep is the love of God, nor can I describe how he has poured out His love for me through B and G and their children. Oh, how I am blessed...

While mention of my thoughts of this day here for all to see might seem contradictory to sum of them, I shall do so anyway.

I am heartily embarrassed. In fact, I am uncomfortably so.

Yesterday, all day, I was congratulated on the party. I could not have asked for more effusive praise. Apparently--this is not my hubris speaking--it was the best party the agency has ever had. Would you believe that? After all, it truly was cobbled together at the last minute. How could it have been that good?

Well, I think the tipping point was either the musicians or the activities. The past parties were more gift exchanges rather than an actual event with things to do for all involved. Still, it was a hasty affair.

I am embarrassed because I only deserved a smidgen of it, if any. After all, it was all of our donors who made the party happen. One of them was the woman who fed me ideas for the party since I have never planned one for children and youth heretofore. Mostly, my contribution was a great big passel of organization.

I was given a standing ovation today. I was given flowers. I was awarded our weekly "Pat on the Back" that is shared within our department. I received another dozen or so congratulations.

It got to the point that I was ducking fellow employees and hiding out in the bathroom. Okay, perhaps that is a bit much, but still...it was all a bit much.

Driving home, I spent my time praying for those children. They were worth the angst and pressure and frenzied labors. Perhaps my effort to let them know that they are loved and celebrated hit home and might inspire additional such efforts by our agency as the months and years pass. Perhaps...

I hand wrote 24 different thank you notes today at work. I found it difficult to ensure that each one was unique and personal to the recipient. It was a bit of a chore.

However, all those who came together to help out with the party...the gifts, the supplies, and the food...well, each one deserved our token of our gratitude.

I would be remiss if I did not note that much of my gratitude goes to the Lord of Lords. It was patently clear to me that God's hand was at work in creating a joyful time for children and youth who have such little joy in their lives.

I lift a paean of praise to Him!

Well, it is over.

What is IT? The blasted holiday party for the foster children that I have been cobbling together over the last four weeks. I was so tired by the time this morning arrived, I think I might have sleep-walked through the entire event.

Those who know me well will not be surprised that I had a box packed for each element of the party, complete with a packing list taped to the top. Those who were manning the activity stations, such as face painting or cookie decorating, only had to unpack their box of supplies and set them up in order to be ready to go.

Of course, the day could not have been perfect. That truly would have been too much to ask after begging and cajoling folks to help out and all my planning/creating spreadsheets and literally driving myself crazy for weeks on end in order to make this party happen. What snafu occurred? Well, when we arrived, I found that the kitchen was locked up and our food was behind a secure door as well. I did manage not to cry nor loose my cool. I did rather frenetically pursue a keeper of keys to release my hostages. The 30 minute delay did not ultimately impact the party, so all was well.

One of my donors, the one who was paying for 1/2 the pizza did not come through with his pledge. Then my phone stopped working just as I was trying to touch base with Domino's about our order. Awaiting the timely delivery of 35 pizzas was a bit nerve-wracking for me.

The pizza arrived. The activities were a hit. The musicians were phenomenal. Santa, while a bit off his rocker, entertained the children and youth. The parent raffle was a success. The food was filling and satisfying. All in all, the party went well.

I was bleary-eyed before it even began and could not really tell you much about actual events between the three hours 150 people were milling around. Nor could I describe the clean-up or the carting of supplies back to our office. And, well, frankly, I was barely conscious during the drive home.

What did I do once I arrived here? You tell me!

Congress announced that it will be investigating the interrogation tapes that were destroyed.

When did Congress become law enforcement?

Perhaps if Congress focused on the problems of the country and left alleged criminal behavior to the Department of Justice, we might just might finally see some progress against the plethora of pressing issues we face in this country.

Oh, my. Oh, my. Oh, my! How I enjoyed my trip to see Sugarland!

On the way there, my friend D and I drove through a mist that parted to reveal a herd of deer. The moment was made all the more special shared with a good friend.


D was ever so patient with me. He arrived 12 minutes early wanting to detour to Lorton. Lorton is NOT on the way to Charlottesville...at least in my opinion. I presented myriad reasonable thoughts about not going until the next day, over and over again, as I packed up my things for our road trip: two inhalers, cough medicine, EpiPen, nebulizer, Chloroseptic, cough drops, and water. By the time I was ready, he caved from his desire to take care of his errand and agreed to get on our way.


The concert ended up being 112 miles and a mere five turns from my home. Of course, turn 3 brought us to a stand still for a while. I panicked in the passenger seat until D pointed out that we only had to average 37 miles an hour to arrive by my target time and surely the next turn (in 12 miles) would bring us back up to speed. Not even once did he tell me to "chill."


After our magic mist moment, our next adventure was a stop at Taco Bell since we were making such good time. It was an adventure because D has an allergy to gluten and he had never eaten at a Taco Bell before. We had to check out the ingredients on a half dozen menu items with the manager before D felt safe to consume some food.


On our way again, we were able to slip into the parking garage and make our way into the arena with 45 minutes to spare before the concert!

If you look really carefully, you can see Sugarland in the white blob on the stage. It is easier to see Jennifer Nettles on the main screen above the stage. She was singing their song "Stay."

Jake Owen opened the concert. I cared not for his music, but found the row of screaming young girls behind me who were fawning over him the entire span of his performance a bit amusing.

Next came Little Big Town. I do enjoy their music...at least most of it. One of the pure highlights of the concert was when they sang "Boondocks." The whole arena of people were on their feet singing and clapping, dancing and swaying to the music. Old and young, male and female. It was an incredible moment of camaraderie, of fellowship in the human condition.

That moment came again and again with several of Sugarland's songs. Of course, by then, I was singing along with my crowdmates. I tried not singing. I tried to be careful about my still sore throat and my asthma. But two songs into their set, I was lost in the music and singing at the top of my voice. Perhaps the fact that I used both inhalers and the cough medicine just prior to singing saved me another trip to the ER, eh?

The Sugarland merchandise truck had broken down on the way to Charlottesville, but it did arrive by the end of the concert. D spotted the shirt I wanted immediately. Hmm...do you think I choose the red one, the blue one, or the GREEN one? He called it a Jolly Rancher shirt because of the font on it, but I cared not.

My one disappointment was the fact that there was something wrong with the sound during Sugarland's performance. I am rather loathe to admit that for much of the time, Jennifer Nettles sounded like a chipmunk any time she hit the higher notes. We had listen to their cd's on the way home to remind ourselves what a great voice she has. I guess I could not expect a perfect evening.

Besides, I told D that the sound issue meant that we will need to go to another Sugarland concert! I also told him I wondered just how far he would travel for me to get my Sugarland fix. My stepmother, when she learned that we were going on a road trip for the concert, commented that he must really like the band. She didn't quite understand my response: D didn't travel for Sugarland; he traveled for me!

Do you have a D in your life? Do you have someone who will do something that he/she is absolutely not interested in doing just because you want to do it? Twice now, D has chauffeured and accompanied me to sit through a concert by a band he cares not for. He cares not for Sugarland, but he does care for me.

Such blessing there can be in true friendship...

In less than two hours, I shall be on the road to see Sugarland for a second time. I am hoping another ER trip will not be a part of this venture, but I am ever the weeist bit worried. I have been ill since before Thanksgiving, and I just cannot seem to get well.

I must admit that I am also a wee bit disappointed that I will not be able to sing. I mean, standing in a crowd of thousands who are all singing with abandon is kind of great. I won't get to join them...unless I want that ER trip.

My voice, while back, is still rough. I cough all night long. I am still quite congested. And I have ferociously sore throat. However, I am going to this concert!

Cross your fingers for me...

When do you draw the line and say that your ethical integrity is more important than a salary? When is who you are as a person more important than ensuring you have enough money to cover your prescriptions? I will never, ever understand how people can solicit funds for a children's event and then say internally that they want to use the money otherwise. How can I be a part of that?

I found a most tasty item at Costco today. However, to my sorrow, I am certain I could not share it with my friend B. You see, what I found was triangle ravioli stuffed with spinach and mozzarella cheese topped with savory herbs and a bit of olive oil.

I confess that I went back to the tasting booth five times, even though I had already put a package into my cart.

B just does not appreciate food stuffed with spinach. While I do not care for spinach by itself, paired with cheese I find the green vegetable most tasty. In this pasta dish, it is altogether satisfying.

I suppose I shall have to eat the entire bag of ravioli myself rather than share it with B and G when I return at Christmas!

My dear puppydog has been ardently guarding my gloves from the moment I came into the house and accidentally dropped them on the floor. Oh, how I have forgotten his deep abiding affinity for my winter gloves!

He lies couchant, gloves between his two paws, for hours on end. Should I dare walk near him, or even cast an eyeball in his direction, Kashi will lower his head to cover them and growls menacingly.

Although he is loathe to do so, Kashi will eventually ask to go outside. During a snowstorm, as we have had this evening, my habit is to follow him outside and shovel snow off the deck and stairs whilst he attends to his business. As soon as he is done, Kashi casts all thoughts of lingering in the yard aside and bolts for the back door, where he waits rather impatiently for me to let him back inside. When I do open the door, he pushes past me, races around the corner, slips and slides across the floor, and flings himself down to protect "his" gloves once more.

It will be a wily move on my part should I actually be able to retrieve them so that I can wear them again tomorrow. Serves me right for dropping them in the first place!

Still half frozen from being left at the metro earlier this morning, I managed to turn one interview into three! I do believe that by the new year I very well may have a new job! I did manage to parlay one visit into a second one some time next week. More people to meet. Another opportunity to see if I might be a good fit for a job where I will actually be using my skills, even if it means walking away from messaging and communications. I am trying to remain nonchalant by the prospect.

After such a heady experience where not one, nor even two, but three people told me that they were impressed by the diversity of my skills sets (finally someone who does not want me to fit into a box), I was buoyed enough to attend a roundtable discussion following by a holiday networking affair.

At the roundtable, I was emboldened to share my ideas about the need for shared messaging about affordable housing in the area. Instead of promoting the "I," the developers and community groups needs to start sharing the "we." The messaging also needs to focus on how affordable housing is an important cog in the wheel of a healthy community. So many people do not really understand what affordable housing is and who needs it. The faces of affordable housing are not merely drug addicts or welfare mothers with a passel of children. In this region, if you look around the community, you will find scores of folk who cannot afford a place to live without one or two or three salaries in the household. Teachers, administrative assistants, nurses, wait staff, sales people...they all struggle to find housing where they work, adding to the traffic congestion, increasing the cost of doing business, and decreasing quality of life--all blows to a region's economy.

Anyhow, off my soapbox and on to my evening. I actually stayed and mingled, having several conversations. One was with the man who cut me from my last job. He cares not a whit about what he put me through nor how his company has suffered from a lack of communications effort (two replacements have left, neither of them capable of doing half the work I did).

I was thoughtful. I was bold. I gave voice to my ideas. I was sought out. I was appreciated. A good day, eh?

You know what made it a great day? Fancy was not screaming as I walked up to the house. She did huddle on my shoulder for the remainder of the evening, but nary a cry!

I wonder if I shall be a sufficient flock mate for her. I would think she needs a new companion, but how shall I know who is the right one for her. Apparantly, her pairing with Madison was a felitious one. Oft times, it goes badly. I guess birdy marriages are not that different from human ones!

93 grams

B is fired. Or a least her baby J is. That whole family is overly generous with its germs, but given the fact that B has had these colds that last for decades ever since her first pregnancy, I blame the children, most particularly J.

My stinking cold is clinging with a vicious grip! Two weeks of sleep interrupted by coughing and breathing blocked by a stuffy nose stinks. I want my throat to stop hurting. I want to fatigue to disappear. I want my voice back. I want to feel better!

Trying to work days and nights and weekends is rather difficult when you feel like death warmed over.

Why, I've barely had the energy to celebrate the fact that my 'Boys are 11/1! And how in the world will I be able to accompany Sugarland at the concert on Saturday if my chords are all messed up?

Just because he's a bare year old doesn't excuse J from his social responsibility. Germs belong to yourself, J. No sharing allowed!

I am trying to restrain myself from plunking Fancy down on the scale hourly. Even daily might be a bit much. She was underweight from the stress of her recent molt. All my Googling about Cockatiel mates' death has resulted in alarming information of how easily the surviving bird dies of starvation born of grief.

She was 90 at B's house. She was 94 when we arrived home. She is 88 now. Her normal, chunky self is 114 grams. I would settle for anything over 100.