Three days of hanging out on the couch, and I am still tired. Three days of sitting in my Sugarland T-shirt, reading books and watching brain-cell-losing Television, and I feel as if I could rest at least another week or two. I am thinking that heavy yard work followed by long hours leading up to a late night benefit concert should not happen in the future.

I confess that some of the television I watch while sitting in my house alone is NASCAR. Sunday's race was not just one I came across by channel surfing. It was a deliberate viewing.

I must say, that I was rather taken aback when the race started with a prayer, the pledge of allegiance, bagpipes playing of "Amazing Grace," singing "God Bless America," and the singing of the "Star-Spangled Banner."

Oh, my goodness! I mean, really, these racing folk obviously have no fear of the ACLU. They actually invoked God's name on national television! They played a hymn, an audacious move even if the lyrics were not sung. I actually sat back in absolute disbelief.

I guess I become accustomed to how much Christianity is vilified in our country. It is okay, socially, to be spiritual, but not religious...not if that religion happens to be Christianity. I have not yet figured out how someone is spiritual but does not believe in God, but that seems to be the most accepted stance.

What I do know is that it is not okay to believe in Truth. It is not okay to believe in absolutes. It is not okay to believe in anything "black and white." Grey is all that is acceptable. Tolerance is king. Religion must be inclusionary to the exclusion of any teaching of right and wrong. Holding people accountable to godly living is now seen as discriminatory.

I believe in just one God. I believe that salvation comes through Jesus Christ. I believe in sin, in right and wrong. I believe in absolutes. I believe in Truth.

I do not expect you to believe as I do. You have every right to believe what you choose. I would just wish that right for myself. For example, I believe that God does not desire us to engage in sexual relations outside of marriage. One of my dear friends does. She has found a most wonderful man who has brought unconditional love and acceptance in her life. After an abusive marriage, she is now learning what it is like to be truly cherished. She enjoys an intimacy that she has never known. I am happy for that love in her life, even though I would make different choices in a dating relationship. I do not judge her. She does judge me. That is how it should be. Operative word there...should.

For a country that was founded on freedom of religion--even though it established on stolen land and built in part on the backs of slaves--I no longer feel that I have true freedom to believe without judgment and persecution...though the latter is primarily the form of public condemnation, oppression for holding or expressing a belief, when that belief happens to be in the teachings of Jesus Christ certainly exists in this country.

Christmas is a perfect example. You can publicly celebrate Kwanza or Hanukkah, but not Christmas. You can celebrate Ramadan or Rosh Shanah, but not Christmas. Not publicly.

As a result of this prevailing attitude and of the growing materialism of our culture, Christmas has become merely presents and food. Easter is chocolate and bunnies.

For that matter, jokes about Christians, especially "fundamentalists" or the "religious right," are fodder for late night television while a joke about a Jew or a Muslim is enough to get a person fired.

This saddens me.

I am not a joke. My faith is not funny. Christmas, while not the exact date of my Savior's birth, is a sacred and holy day of reflection and celebration of both the incredible gift of the sacrifice of Jesus Christ and our own need of salvation.

I admit that while I would rather a cross hung on my office wall, a bible sat on the corner of my desk, and scripture serve as my screen saver, I am hesitant to have any of the former for the fact that I could easily see being told that my outward expressions of faith were oppressive to another co-worker. I have worn a cross nearly every day since I became a Christian. I also talk about my faith and what Christ has done in my life to Christians and non-Christians alike. But I am fairly sure I could not be sued for either of those. I can, however, easily see an ACLU lawyer taking a bible on my desk to be an egregious act against my co-workers or supervisees with a zeal I find frightening for what it really means.

So, in a country were people are fighting to take God out of our pledge and off our money and prayer out of our schools--even prayer so innocuous as a moment of silence--it was a pleasant and most welcome surprise to watch on public television a passel of folk who had absolutely no problem citing the name of God, not once but four times, with no protesters and no lawyers hovering in wait.

I fell on the stairs this evening. Not on the way down. On the way up.

I am now sporting a rather large knot on my right shin and bruises on my right leg, right arm, and of all places the middle finger on my left hand. Trying to catch myself before I fell just didn't work out very well.

I can hear my friend T's cry of frustration all the way from Pennsylvania: "You shouldn't be living in a house with stairs!" Perhaps there is some validity in her concern. However, this is my house. I cannot really do anything about that right now. I have tried to be more careful about going down my stairs. I just didn't think I needed to worry about walking up them.

Despite my throbbing leg, I did hasten outdoors to get a quick mow in what has become a rare sunny day of late. The rain keeps coming down. As a consequence, the grass keeps growing rather quickly.

I did refrain from edging, even though a mown and edged yard is far more visually satisfying than a merely mown one is.

One who falls up the stairs ought not to fret over the shaggy appearance of the edge of her yard. She should rest upon her couch and be thankful nothing was broken and thankful that with the lawn mown she can sleep away the holiday weekend in pursuit of much rest.

A brother accidentally kills his sister. The stuff of tragedy.

The son of Steven Curtis Chapman backed over his sister today in a most heart-breaking accident. The outpouring of love and prayers and support for the Christian singer and his family has been overwhelming. In part, reading through the thousands of comments on a memorial set up to honor the memory of his daughter, one can see the impact of his ministry over the past few decades.

His music has always been provocative to me. His hauntingly simple, yet so profound song "Heart's Cry" is such a powerful reminder of what is important in this world.

This is my heart's cry
I want to know the one who saved me and gave me life
This is my heart's cry to be so close to Him that all my life becomes
A testimony of my Savior's grace and love
This is my heart's cry

This is my heart's cry
Much more than just a great desire - it's like a fire in me
I hear my heart cry each time I think about the cross where Jesus died
The cross should have been mine but His love broke through time
And heard my heart's cry - he heard my heart's cry

Now every other hope and dream is lost inside of this one thing
To know the one who died for me and live my life for Jesus Christ
Is my heart's cry

So let my life become a testimony of my Savior's grace and love
Oh - this is my heart's cry - to stand before the Father one day
And hear Him say well done - this is my heart's cry

His song "Dive" is an infectious melody that reminds us to embrace this life that we have.

The long-awaited rains have fallen hard upon the thirsty ground
Have carved their way to where the wild and rushing river can be found
And like the rains I have been carried here to where the river flows, yeah
My heart is racin' and my knees are weak as I walk to the edge
I know there is no turning back once my feet have left the ledge
And in the rush I hear a voice, it's telling me it's time to
Take the leap of faith
So here I go

I'm diving in
I'm going deep
In over my head I wanna be
Caught in the rush
Lost in the flow
In over my head I wanna go
The river's deep
The river's wide
The river's water is alive
So sink or swim
I'm diving in
I'm diving in

There is a supernatural power in this mighty river's flow
It can bring the dead to life, and it can fill an empty soul
And give a heart the only thing worth livin' and worth dyin' for, yeah
But we will never know the awesome power of the grace of God
Until we let ourselves get swept away into this holy flood
So if you'll take my hand, we'll close our eyes and count to three
And take the leap of faith
Come on let's go

His declaration of love for his wife has echoed through countless weddings, but is even a greater picture of the love Christ has for His Bride, the church. "I Will Be Here"

Tomorrow morning if you wake up
And the sun does not appear,
I will be here.

If in the dark we lose sight of love,
Hold my hand and have no fear,
‘Cause I will be here.

CHORUS
I will be here when you feel like being quiet;
When you need to speak your mind, I will listen.
And I will be here when the laughter turns to crying;
Through the winning, losing, and trying, we’ll be together,
‘Cause I will be here.

Tomorrow morning if you wake up
And the future is unclear,
I will be here.

As sure as seasons are made for change,
Our lifetimes are made for years,
So I will be here.

CHORUS
I will be here, so you can cry on my shoulder;
When the mirror tells us we’re older, I will hold you.
And I will be here to watch you grow in beauty,
And tell you all the things you are to me;
I will be here.

I will be true to the promise I have made,
To you and to the One who gave you to me.

As sure as seasons are made for change,
Our lifetimes are made for years,
So I, I will be here.
We'll be together and I will be here.

I could post literally dozens of other songs that speak to the truths God has for us, songs that represent his unflagging faith and deep love for the sharing the Grace and Mercy of Christ.

I wept when I read of the death of his daughter. Along with thousands of those who have had the salt and light of Christ poured out in their lives through his music, my heart ached.

But...I also could see that God, in His perfect timing, could use this as a mighty lesson of faith and glory and blessing.

Many of the comments included the following verse from John 14:27:

Peace I leave with you;
My peace I give to you;
not as the world gives
do I give to you .
Do not let your heart be troubled,
nor let it be fearful.

The world cannot understand how Steven, his wife Mary Beth, their son, or their whole family could find peace in this moment, but I know that they will. I know because that is the gift of the One who reigns in their hearts. His daughter Maria is with Jesus. She is at peace. God will bring that to her family.

May we be reminded of the transitory nature of this life that we live and savor each and every moment.

PUBLIC ANNOUNCEMENT:

Let it be known on this day forth and forever more that D was right. I was wrong.

~~~~
Have you ever had someone give you a song? I know that couples often have "their song," the one that marks some special moment or thought between them. But I am speaking of a gift. I received one from D and am still moved by the gift, by the lyrics she chose to place in my heart and in my life.

I enjoy music. For as long as I can remember, I have harbored dreams of being a singer. Not the American Idol type, or any great artist for that matter. Rather, I dreamed that I was singing in a dark and dusty club with friends who find the same joy I do in song, in savoring lyrics as much as melody and harmony.

One of the best times in my life was when I sang with a touring group for nearly a year. We practiced for hours and hours on end, and I cannot honestly say whether or not I cared more for the practicing than the performance. Working out each note, bathing in song all the while. Of course, the best part about practice is that we always covered our work in prayer, often lasting a half hour or more even though it felt as if but a few minutes had passed.

During that time, I also taught myself to play the guitar, practicing for hours on end...literally making my fingertips bleed. After a few months, I could strum quite a few chords, save for F, and learned the praise songs I enjoy most.

However, I do have a fatal flaw when it comes to my musical dreamings: I have absolutely, positively no rhythm. None. Nada. I cannot clap and sing at the same time. I can clap. I can sing. I cannot do both. I cannot keep time. I cannot follow the beat. I am rhythmless.

During the performances, I would hide in the background where folks wouldn't notice my failing as much and delighted in solos and duets for the fact that I got to hold something (the microphone). Of course, both solos and duets were problematic if it meant that I had to start singing, rather than merely step into the middle. Starting is hard since I have no ability to keep the beat and count measures to know when to begin.

This is also a problem with the guitar. I can accompany myself just fine...but when it comes to playing with others, that whole rhythm thing crops up again. I feel as if I do a dandy job of playing to a steady beat. I must admit, however, that no one has ever seconded that opinion and that leading worship at bible studies was not so successful.

One time. One time I had the joy of playing with another musician. She was in my mother-daughter book club and could play just about any instrument you put before her. One evening, I had the girls over to my house. When she found the bamboo flute from Cameroon that I own, she picked it up and started playing. I got out my guitar and played a hymn with her. The reason I could is that she played around me, not with me. Her notes enriched my own, and the entire experience was oh, so very heady for me. In that moment, I totally and absolutely understood why it is that people hang out in garages, work dead-end, low-wage job, and play in seedy dives just to be in a band.

Because music means so much to me, I have given it to others over the years. Back in the dark ages, and the way you passed on music, I made cassette tapes for my friends. I would labor for days to record mixes of my favorite songs. The invention of the CD burner was a great boon to me. The time for my creations dropped to hours.

However, I have found a bit of disappointment in the offerings I have made. For example, I most recently gave three people a mix of Chris Rice songs that were quite important to me. This time, the crafting time did extend to days, between the song selections and the order. I was quite excited, primarily because I thought the mix reflected some of the changes that God has wrought within me over the past year.

While one friend has let me know she enjoys the CD and another mentioned that she liked the artist and looked forward to listening to it, neither one got my message. I admit, I am disappointed about that.

Anyhow, even though I have given music to others, I have never received the gift of a song in quite the manner I did this week.

All of my messages were about me...essentially. They were lyrics that touched me, melodies that captivated me, harmonies that moved me. They were songs I thought the other person would enjoy and wanted to share. They were collections that spoke not in one song but through the whole.

D gave me a song. A single song. A single song that voices so perfectly an expression of love and friendship in words written by another but made real by D. I could hardly respond to her call when she checked to see if I received it. Two days have passed as I struggled to write of the measure of her gift, a gift that is most decidedly an act of Grace from God.

I am mightily blessed by the women God has brought into my life (even if I would prefer that at least one of them live in the same state as I) and by the perfection of His timing.

Would that I could remember this more often.

The benefit ran late Friday, and then my father came over for an unexpected movie fest, so I am rather tired and facing another four days of work. I need my prince charming to come riding up on that white steed any moment now!

~~~~
I have a dilemma: to either use comp time in a system that is inherently wrong or to refuse to use it on principle.

Federal Wage Law mandates that exempt, salaried employees cannot be made to account for their time on a hourly basis in such a manner that they have to swap like for like, time off work for vacation or other leave. If you work any part of a day, you have to be paid for that day. Comp time can be used by an employer as an added benefit, but it cannot be used as an overtime compensation tool.

So, do I point this out and work the two days I have to use or do I stay at home and get some of the much needed rest to counter the fatigue that is dragging at my very bones?

~~~~
I just love B's sense of humor. She wrote the following about her first trip in her pop-up camper:

Pop-up is a misnomer. Only after cranking, pulling, tugging, zipping, lifting, wedging, and rearranging does one get to rest in a "pop-up" camper.

Late Tuesday night started a rather unwelcome-and-still-lingering visit of food poisoning.

It took all of yesterday to get control of my stomach, but that was only if I refrained from eating. I went to work today, primarily because I just blew through the one sick day I have earned. My pale face and trembling limbs caused a bit of comment from everyone save my boss, whom I think holds my absence against me given our event tomorrow. Still, I soldiered on.

I ventured with a bit of left over perogi tonight that stayed down, though it was mostly a case of mind over matter. Potatoes stick to your ribs, right? I thought that since they were essentially boiled pasta and potatoes, that they could not do much harm.

Tomorrow is going to be the longest of days. First, I have to weather another inch or so of rain overnight. The flooding from Sunday evening was sparked by 5 inches of rain...but the ground has not had sufficient time dry out and may not bear well beneath the pressure of more water falling down upon it. This evening, I walked around the yard with a few words of encouragement: "Buck up, dear soil!" But that probably will not help.

Then comes our benefit piano concert, which is a fair piece down the road. We are leaving at 2:30 ish and most likely will not be back before midnight, between the concert, the mingling, the clean-up, and the commute back.

My plan for Saturday: SLEEP!

Sun today. Mowed.

~~~~
Only your best friend in the whole wide world would say "I love you" by sending you a copy of the worst picture ever taken of you set in a beautiful frame. I laughed so hard when I opened B's box that I had to go fetch my inhaler...then the Epipen.

Thanks for the jab in my thigh, B! I love you, too!!

As tired as I am, I did manage to win one of two games of Scrabble with my dear friend B. She has been whittling away at my previous high score and has me close to joining her in the 500's. I love her smarts...except when she is beating me!

D and I had a good talk tonight while we were both half asleep (she's had a whirlwind life of late). While we were mumbling at each other, I was reminded of a comment the communications coordinator at work made on Friday.

"Are there really, like, set rules for commas that I could learn?"

She is a recent college graduate with a degree in English.

SIGH.

Rain, rain go away
Please come back another day!


My basement flooded last night. I ran the shop vac every hour on the hour every hour from 9:00 PM until 6:00 AM. I did then sleep for 6 hours, but I had to get up or I will have trouble sleeping tonight and getting up tomorrow. I am, however, fairly miserable between my aching muscles and my screaming arthritis.

The two streets behind me were evacuated because the neighborhood flooded again. Fairfax County has been dragging its feet ever since the Army Corps of Engineers determined that the flood of June 2006 that ruined so many houses and cars was due to the construction at Wilson Bridge (they ruined Cameron Run). The accepted "fix" was to build a levy, but no one wants to pay for it. I imagine the homeowners who were evacuated last night are pretty frustrated.

I keep a 24 oz mason jar out on my deck as a rain gauge. It was completely full this morning. Boy did we have a terrific storm last night with seemingly unending torrential rains and winds.

Hot and bothered again...but for good reason.

With some help from DB, I managed to get the majority of the mulch down and put in new bushes behind the bench where the old ones died. I wanted to get all the work done, but I was growing too weak, so I left the final two beds for later. The reason for this was that one of the beds has hostas that need to be split and the other is where the hostas pieces will go (I lost some in last year's drought). I knew I would not be splitting or digging or anything else with a shovel.

I was right about the basement. Yesterday morning, I took a look-see and ignored what I saw. When my writing student came over, she went down there to fetch a TV-tray for her to use (we eat and compute on them). She rather gently told me about the water, and I admitted that I was in denial. However, most of it had evaporated, so the only real chore left was putting to two rugs out to dry on the deck railing and putting the laundry rug into the dryer.

The good thing about all the rain is that the moss I transplanted has taken firm hold! Those tiny spots of green in my flower pots are so cheering. All the plantings are also soaking up the rain quite happily. Thursday night, my homemade-rain-gauge-mason-jar filled up to the 16 ounce mark or 3.5 inches.

The best part of this day is that the azaleas I purchased were both on sale and still blooming. It is as if I get to have an extra year of enjoyment from them. The added bonus is that I have been told a check covering their purchase on their way. My annual birthday check from my father will cover the mulch, so all is wonderfully accounted for and beautifully in place.

Below are photos from the back yard. I added one from the corner bed that is on the side of the house so that you can see what a sliver of rosemary can become if it is clipped from the amazing rosemary bush that is growing in my writing student's back yard. I also added photos of the upper and lower decks. In posting them, I realized that I did not capture the baker's rack I have on the upper deck that sports all the moss gardens and the two bonsais I own. I shall add that one some other time.

Can you see my puppy dog?

I just don't get people. Or Capital One.

The latter has the worst customer service on the planet. Seriously. Frankly, the things claiming to be people there don't really qualify in my book.

~~~~
My mother is better. She turned a corner so to speak Tuesday. Her first real orders? She doesn't want my sister to visit her. My brother is welcome to wait on her hand and foot, but my sister is not even welcome in the Hospital. Now do you get why Thanksgiving with B and her family was heaven to me? In my family, it is all criticism, judgment, and rejection...in sickness and in health.

~~~~
Well...the HVAC at work is still shut off. I managed to make it through the day today through sheer will power. UGH. I have a small cooling unit in my office, but it really cannot compensate for no air elsewhere. And when I had a meeting in the conference room, it was all I could do not to chew off a few heads before the trembling and fumbling words started. Hot and bothered is my new middle name. I have to go in tomorrow, but at least I get to work with my writing student in the evening.

~~~~
The bulk of yesterday was spent at a seminar on green choices companies can make with regard to paper and printing. The primary speaker was Derek Smith, an international guru in the paper industry. He gave a fascinating speech that began with the whole world and ended in my hands. I definitely plan to use EcoSmart ink from now on and will push using FSC certified printing jobs.

~~~~
I spend some free time drafting a benefits manual and a step-by-step, illustrated guide for signing up for an online account with our health insurance carrier and printing a verification of coverage letter as a place-holder until ID cards are mailed. I also have started collecting PDF versions of all the forms that need to be filled out and submitted, including the ones for FSA claims. Next, I want to tackle a new employee checklist for both the company and for the employee. Then, I shall sit on this stuff until someone asks for help...but at least it will be ready to go. The organization tasks helped me work through my frustration with the lack of a system for human resources at this very laudable organization.

~~~~
There is a torrential storm brewing outside. Kashi is frenetic. I do wish there was some way for me to comfort him. Even I am a bit concerned with the tornado warnings all over the television stations. And, of course, there is always the worry that raindrops falling upon raindrops will accumulate to the point of seeping across the basement floor. I would rather not be sopping up water any time soon. At least the plantings I did on Tuesday are getting a good soaking, and the harsh rain is a great way to clean out the fountain!

~~~~
Given that my thoughts are all over the page, I would like to return to two evenings ago...all that blissful puttering about with soil and flowers and moss gardens. That whole day and the next, I was having great pain in my left ankle. It was sharp and sweet and swift and piercing, fleeting but repetitive. The pain was distracting. My ankle sometimes gave way as if there were nothing connecting my foot to my leg (the reason for the three times I fell mowing).

I basically worked to ignore the pain, even though it was new. I have tried aspirin, motrin, napracin, acetaminophen, my arthritis medicine, and the two narcotic pain killers left over from the surgery last year that had been gathering dust in the bathroom closet (a closet that is technically just outside the bathroom). Nothing worked...except ignoring it. This evening, the pain is gone. The pain in my wrists and arms is also much, much better.

However, the spasticity in my legs is particularly bad. For example, tonight I am doing the laundry inspired by B's total laundry victory of yesterday (or was it the day before?). Walking up the stairs, my quadriceps were so tight and painful it felt as if I had climbed a dozen flights of stairs, as if I were at the point of failure you work towards in your reps at the gym. If you poke a finger at them, it will feel like you are hitting rock (except for the...uhm...fat in them). The same is true for my hamstrings. In case you were wondering, trying to massage your own legs is rather difficult.

Patience through the first is laudable, but neglectful in the second. I really need someone to whack me upside the head each day I don't admit to stretching. Funny, isn't it? I have to do something that is painful to help alleviate another pain?

Why go here for the 1,000th time lately? Well, just yesterday I was reading an article about a pain boot camp. It is a four-week program for those with chronic pain to help deal their their lives. It is not really about alleviating the pain. For the most part, there is little to actually change pain for the folks who attend this intervention. It is about accepting the pain, about finding ways to better your life despite the pain. The cost was $20,000, I believe, but for many the cost is irrelevant. If you are not prone to suicide and there is nothing medicine can do to change, then your only choice is to live with it.

The article made me think about the episode from Eli Stone that had the mantra of "Live Brave." That's pretty good life direction, don't you think?

B played Scrabble with me this afternoon, since I am working from home due to the absolute lack of air-conditioning in the entire office building through Wednesday. I won. She won. B would say, "That's the way it should always be!"

D has been working on a piece of writing with me. She is truly a talented writer. In many ways, she eclipses me (just not in knowing comma rules). She calls me her writing coach, a title that is an honor in my opinion. Today we finished it.

Writing with another--editing and evaluating word choice, construction, and message--is probably my favorite activity...or at least it is tied with drinking Dr. Pepper and playing games! Seeing D grow as a writer is such a privilege.

I also spent hours and hours and hours out in the yard this evening. Such peace I have when it comes to puttering about with my hands deep within soil.

I mowed and edged, but left the weeding for another time since I was starting to shake. Then I turned to the flowers I bought while out with my father on Saturday. I treated myself to just $25 of flowers and a bag of potting soil that I will need should I ever get to replacing the bushes that died during last summer's drought.

Less is more, right? I have been trying to live by that in small ways and big. Certainly less can be more when it comes to writing. So the four pots that were in pieces that I had been hanging on to with strategic placement, rubber bands, and regular application of glue are now in the rubbish bin. Making that choice meant I had to move some things around, but I ended up with a larger moss garden with a "river," bridge, pagoda, and two Chinese figurines. My remaining pots, and my fountain are all now sporting new flowers!

Having spots of color scattered about my decks really does cheer me up. A bubbling fountain, a neat yard, and new flowers. What more could you want?

I feel like an utter, colossal failure.

For reference, the five eggs on the right are from the first two dozen that I boiled the regular way (put them in a pan, bring to a boil, boil 10 minutes, cool, peel).

The seven eggs on the left are the result of the multiple-step, expert process.

My mother has pneumonia now. She has an abdomen so swollen she looks nine months pregnant. She has the worst case of C.diff that the hospital has encountered. Now she has pneumonia.

She has started to eat, after a week of being unable to keep anything down. She has taken a few walks. Her leaky plumbing has started to dry up a wee bit. She is more alert.

However, she now has pneumonia, which means more antibiotics, which may compromise her ability to fight the C.diff.

~~~~
I cannot boil an egg. For over a year now, I have struggled in boiling eggs, often ending up with pieces on my ceiling. This is ridiculous. I have been boiling eggs for decades, and now I suddenly cannot end up with anything other than heavily pitted and broken pieces of cooked eggs when I am finished. Three times I have tried to make deviled eggs for work potlucks. Three times I ended up with nary an egg to devil.

Some time ago, I learned B's husband G likes Pennsylvania Dutch pickled eggs, so I announced that I would make him some. That was back in February.

I went shopping, got out my pan, and was all ready to make them when B came and send her home with the jar full of those beautiful purple eggs--a tasty thank you to a man who has unconditionally welcomed me into his family for many years. But I discovered that my two-gallon jar was broken. [The ingredients (other than the eggs) have been sitting in a bag since then...mocking me.]

After much searching, I finally found a jar large enough to make the pickled eggs while on an errand with my boss. So tonight, partly because I am so frustrated with the office heat, the chronic pain, my father's diminishing faculties, my mother's illness, and my sibling's criticism, I set out to make those eggs.

Of the first two dozen eggs, only four survived. The pieces of two are on the ceiling. One is on the underside of the microwave. Kashi is trembling upstairs in the closet.

Determined to boil eggs, I Googled the process until I found a step-by-step method that seemed complicated enough to match my utter lack of egg boiling ability.

• 30 minutes of resting on the counter
  
• 6 minutes of bringing to a gentle boil
• 30 minutes of cooking in the heated water off the stove
• 30 minutes in an ice bath
• 10 minutes of resting back in the cold water after the shells have been cracked
• 30 minutes of careful peeling.

Right now, I am at the ice bath stage. Two of my last nine eggs burst while in the bringing-to-a-gentle-boil stage. I am fervently hoping the final eight survive.

Two expert chef notes of interest: It is best to lay eggs on their side for at least 8 hours to center the yolk. It is best to use eggs that are at least 10 days old (but not expired).

~~~~
D wrote me that it was important to feel loved, not just believe it. While the jury is out on that, I wonder if her bit of wisdom transfers to being alone...because while I know I am not, I sure feel that way.

My mother is in the hospital with one of the worst cases of C. diff bacterial infection that the infectious disease specialist has ever seen. [You can read more about the bacteria here.] Her intestines are so infected that her entire abdomen is swollen. She has been dehydrated for many days and has been unable to keep down food. While she has started to consume solid foods again, her intestines are still not processing it and the addition of food in her abdomen makes her short of breath. One of her lungs collapsed today. Since the bacteria is anti-biotic resistant, her doctors are worried she will now get pneumonia, which they would be forced to treat with antibiotics, which would compromise the chances of the targeted antibiotic for the C. diff being effective.

My father and I spent yesterday and today engaged in another movie-thon. My step-mother was out of town all week, so I called my father twice a day to check on him. He did not remember our conversations from morning to evening, from day to day. I knew he was getting bag--I've argued with my step-mother about getting him to a doctor for the past two years--but I usually call every week or two. With such a gap in time, I was not surprised at having to orient him a bit. I was stunned that I had to do so in such a short period of time. I am losing my father, who is only 68. I don't know about my mother...

I battled all week about my benefits at work because the organization has some restructuring gaps that have yet to be resolved. However, I was mere minutes away from having a gap in my coverage, a devastating state that would result in a pre-existing conditions clause to kick into my eventual coverage.

My office is still stinking hot, and the HVAC system will be completely off-line next Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday.

I have been hurting day after day after day, at times wishing I could cut off my legs, other times my arms. The two painkillers left over from the surgery last year just didn't help, so I tossed the bottles back into the basket of old medicine and hoped for something else to come along soon. After watching Eli Stone (a most provocative television show this year), I could almost make myself see an acupuncturist. Almost.

I have been feeling weary and embattled and alone all week, not even knowing that my mother was so ill until very late Thursday night. A bad week, to say the least.

My Cousin D called Thursday night after I forwarded the email I received stating Mother's condition. For a while, My Second Cousin D was on speaker phone until they figured out that I was crying. The my Cousin D took over in a rather valiant, male way. I even laughed. But as good as the moment was, it passed and I was struggling once more.

Friday I tried to reach someone to talk with, but my need just didn't seem to fit in with other's timing. I even ended up working until 9:00 because my boss wanted me on a "quick" errand and I wanted to be helpful. I learned nothing more about my mother. Falling asleep was another battle because all I kept thinking about the lessons in patience I have all around me and how weak I am in my faith at times. God does not give us more than we can handle, and yet I could wish for just one day of ease, one day where I did not have to fight...fight against the heat, fight against work procedures for benefits, fight against forming letters, fight against blurred vision, fight against pain, fight against stiffness, fight against fight against fatigue, fight against seemingly everything. I want to feel well. I want to see well. I want to remember. Just one day.

Even though I have struggled mightily this week, I have heard from my Second Cousin D and my friend D and T that I am not alone. In those words.

D floored me Saturday with a voice mail message that was so bold and so loving that even in my weariness I heard her. I shall cherish her words until the day I die. What a precious gift she gave me.

In an instance of incredible timing, some days ago T had sent me a most beautiful card with such a wonderful message and a DVD of a movie that she liked immensely: Dan in the Real Life. Dad and I watched it on Saturday, and we were both moved. The movie definitely is a good one. I am not sure T could have chosen a better gift nor a more perfect time to send it. Both were most certainly a blessing from God.

I had dinner with my step-mother, grandfather when I drove my father back to his house today. I noticed that she was not quite patient with him and he responded in quick anger. Neither were happy with the other in those moments. It made me think about those lessons in patience.

Dad has to orient himself again and again. I am trying to be patient with his needs, repeating information as often as needed, letting him take the lead. For example, today we went back to Wal-Mart to the $5.00 DVD bin (the movies are now $0.50 cheaper) because yesterday we had only purchased one copy of The Jackal. We both liked the movie, and he wanted me to have a copy. Now, I will never turn down a gift, but having the DVD was not as important to me as it was to him. Nothing would do until we managed to get our hands on one. I liked the movie and might have gone back eventually myself, but Dad would not rest, could not rest, until he had closure in that matter.

My step-mother seems to want to try and keep him on her path, rather than the one he is walking. I hate what is happening to him. I fear that even now, though she is leaning toward getting him to a doctor, that it is too late for any effective intervention. I hate what is happening to him. But I want him to feel safe, even if that means more work or more sacrifice on my part. I want that because I want it for myself when I lose my own cognitive battle.

I am glad this week is done. I know more about myself and more about what help I do and do not have. I know more about my faith. I know more about patience. I know more about where I need to understand more.

~~~~
NOTE: Since we were out, Dad ran two other errands with me: to the pet store for Fancy's food and Kashi's bones and to the thrift store to donate a few more items I truly do not need. At Wal-Mart, he allowed me to pick up a few other items I needed. Among those items, I purchased plant food and bug killer spray and managed to put both out in small enough time increments that I did so without breaking down in tears. A step forward. I also--after five times in being a store where I could purchase it and failed to remember it was a particular need of mine--finally remembered to purchase Puffs tissues.

"Why did you not post last night," you ask. Well, frankly, after spreading out the fertilizer, I could only use my right hand and did not have the energy to peck at the keyboard single-handed.

Yes, I am happy those weed killer granules are out on my lawn, even if it means the left hand portion of the yard will be rather, rather bare if they work. I am still thankful to L for running that errand while we were having our Girl's Day Out. I am also glad the seemingly unending rain stopped so that I could apply the special fertilizer. However, the application process did cause a bit of a problem with me.

I do not have one of those push fertilizer spreaders (I really don't have a place to store one). Instead, I have one that you hold in your left hand and spin (spread) with your right hand. While the spreading took just about 15 minutes, my left arm was trembling within just minutes of holding the spreader. By the time I finished, it was more like a wet noodle than an appendage.

The rest of the evening, I had to figure out ways to do my tasks with only one arm. My left arm simply would not work. When I tried to lift it, I felt as if I were dragging it through mud and what little function I did have was so weak that it was ineffective, i.e., I dropped things. The whole experience was rather disconcerting.

However, I am trying to focus on the fact that, hopefully, my labors will result in deadened weeds across my lawn and the future spread of beautiful green grass.

~~~~
NOTE: The one drawback to my job is that there is no human resources person. You basically have to make do yourself. This might not be so bad if there was a clear process, a self-help guide, and a central location for all information. This is not the case at work. On top of that, the one person I keep getting pointed to practically freaks out if you ask her things, and dancing around her frustrations at having to deal with employees when human resources is "not her job; not what she was hired to do" to keep a lid on her reaction is quite draining. Well, today, after a week of trying to contact the health insurance person, I discovered the four messages I left were actually for another woman; the phone number on the contact sheet was incorrect. When I got to the right person, I discovered my information had never been entered. It had never been entered because my form was lost. However, had it been entered, it would have been faxed to the wrong number as had the other new employee's form had been. I rather hastily filled out another form and faxed it to the insurance agent myself. The down side is that I cannot get proof of insurance for 3 business days even though my coverage will start tomorrow. I literally spent several hours chasing down this information today and ensuring both myself and my co-worker was covered. The only plus to the day was the fact that my office was not sweltering due to the colder weather we are currently experiencing. I'm probably the only person in the North East who is rejoicing over the return to winter-ish weather! However, I must also add that I was informed that all air in the building will be turned off next Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday as the work on the HVAC system progresses to the next stage. Too bad a warm front is moving in on Friday.

Last night at dinner, L served this rather tasty wine. It is Fetzer Gewurztraminer 2006. Now, I am just not a great drinker of alcohol, primarily because I know the dangers of multiple generations of alcoholics and addicts in my family. I also happen to despise the taste of beer. And my step-father collects wine, so I am a bit of a wine snob. All that adds up to the fact that when people offer wine with dinner, I generally decline.

However, last night I had two glasses and would have downed a third had we not finished off the bottle.

Today, I schlepped over to Target after work because I have been sneezing like crazy and my beloved Zyrtec has started to make me sleepy--well, quite drugged actually. After sneezing my way through my wonderful day with L, I decided it was high time that I tried that Claritin-D stuff that is all over the TV. After all, I want to be "Claritin Clear!"

Well, there I was, walking down the aisles when I thought about that wine. Would you believe that when I scanned the shelf I found that not only Target carried the wine but that it was also on sale for $6.99? That was $3 off what it was as Giant. More than a few bottles might just have jumped into my cart!

~~~~
NOTE: The dreary weather meant that my office was almost, not quite but almost, pleasant today. Amongst other tasks, I personally stamped 380 copies of our newsletter today. The total mailing is 1,800, but I am no longer the one responsible for doing everything myself. I signed up for affixing stamps because it doesn't really matter if I stick them on less than straight. Being part of a team is great!

Congratulations goes out to B. She had total victory over her laptop after many minutes (hours) of failed attempts to validate her copy of XP!

I had a good day today!

My friend L needed company on a trek to an outlet mall, so I agreed to take a road trip with her. I nearly left my wallet at home because I did not want to spend money, just enjoy her company. That would have been a mistake.

Her reason for going was to treat herself with a new Coach bag,her treat from their tax return. However, the store was filled with so many shoppers, we could barely squeeze ourselves inside. Just a few moments of being a sardine was enough for L, and I was glad to follow her back outside. We then set out to cross off a few more things from her household list.

In one store, I found this tiny dish that was perfect for Fancy's daily rice offering. I have been using the top of a plastic container, but did not really like putting it in the microwave over and over again to reheat the rice. The dish was only $0.95. A genuine bargain. I bought two so that I could always have a clean one. Right next to the dish were some dish towels that were just plain beautiful. I picked through the pile of them because when D was here with her children, I realized after running through two dish towels rather quickly that perhaps the three I had might not be enough. I bought two of them that paired nicely in my opinion, so my total at the store was $12.01. You would probably laugh if you saw dish towels because you would know I was thinking of my dear friend B at the time...they are a rich floral pattern that is a brocade, with the base color of one green and the other purple.

But the best was yet to come!

Chico's, my favorite clothing store, has an outlet in the complex. At first I was not going to bother checking it out because while I have a gift card that has been sitting in my wallet, I just don't want to shop with my recent weight gain. However, I did venture inside and found two suits, one blazer, two shells, and one blouse for the amazing price of $131! That means I have more than half the gift card left and yet walked out of the store with a bag full of clothing! I was plumb giddy for a while.

I did make one other purchase: a small black metal basket with six round holes for glass votive holders that are sized for tea light candles (think of a small-sized milk bottle container). Three years ago, someone gave me a package of 100 citronella tea light candles. They have been sitting on a shelf because I did not know what to do with them. Now, I can put them in the holder, light them, and sit outside in the evening without worrying about the mosquitoes, leaving the glass holders in the basket or spreading them around the deck.

I consider the $12.10 purchase an early birthday present to myself, since it was not particularly as necessary as the small dishes and the towels were. Besides, L said that it was almost embarrassing how little I spent at an outlet mall since the gift card didn't count. I think I did fairly well given how much I admired but resisted carrying over to a register--just under $25.

L's best bargain was this very tall, glass vase that was originally listed at $99.99 and ultimately marked down to $10.00. She also found two frames for photos on her desk at work and a small basket with a lid to hold extra toilet paper in her power room half-bath, both of which were marked down 40%. Not a bad day of shopping.

Throughout the excursion, L was so very kind in carrying all the bags while we shopped. She is so very thoughtful of my needs, from parking to walking to bags to carts. I was humbled by her care.

L even went a step further and popped over to The Home Depot before we left Leesburg so that I could get the weed killer for the lawn. And she stopped by a grocery store when we were back near her home so that I could get the Gatorade, rice, milk, and other supplies I needed for my cupboard.

Before heading home, we picked up Chinese food and had dinner with her husband B. I'm probably the thousandth person to say it, but the Lord sure made a match with them. I've never met two people more meant to spend their lives together. They are truly two halves of a whole.

The day was long, with much driving and riding in cars, which means much pain for me. I was most stiff getting out at the grocery store. Yet the day was so very wonderful, full of fellowship and laughter and such good company, especially with the thoughtful care L showered upon me. The bargain shopping was just an added fillip to the blessing that is L and her husband B and the friendship they have offered.

I mowed and then came inside, put a towel down on the couch, and took a nap. Fancy took a snooze with me. Two hours later, I went back outside to edge, weed, rake leaves, and put away all of the lawn supplies. I think it is time for another nap...just after I finish admiring the neatened appearance of my yard!

It was a year ago today that I almost died. It was a year ago today that but for DB glancing through a window and speaking out against the hospital personnel who were ignoring my cries for help I would have gone to be with my Savior in heaven. It was a year ago today that I my life changed once more.

March 3, 2001 was another day I almost died. It was that time that a guy popped over, something he had never done before, and found me laboring for breath. A doctor, he recognized what I had failed to see. I was in great distress. He scooped me up, rushed me to the hospital, and saved my life.

Struggling to breath is absolutely frightening. Total fear coupled with overwhelming helplessness.

Lying on the gurney in the wee hours of the morning, begging for help from medical personal who kept flipping through my chart and insisting that I did not have asthma and only needed to calm down was the most maddening experience of my life. I knew my time was slipping away. DB had been waiting a while and for some reason, set down his book, stood up from his chair, and looked through the window. If not but for the grace of God, go I.

I had a lawyer review my medical records. He agreed there was gross neglect, but you can really only sue for malpractice. And then you must show permanent harm. A second trip to the hospital and months of recovery are not permanent harm.

I sought help from a counselor to learn what I might have done differently to be treated for my health, not a label from my past. She didn't even understand my request for help, "Just tell the doctor before hand that you do not metabolize drugs very well and he or she will take care of you." A blithe, and somewhat callous response if you ask me. I did that. My own doctor backed up my warning that I would take longer to awake after surgery, but she was out of the country and the surgeon just didn't believe me. She took my earlier discomfort with being unclothed because of my past and subsequent request for unmentionables to wear into the operating room coupled with my slow regain of consciousness and lingering disorientation and leapt to the conclusion that I was having a phychotic break. All the medical sheep that followed never once considered the fact that I had little sleep, no liquids, and no food over the next three days might have been the reason for my deteriorating condition. I was just a crazy person broken by her past. A specious bit of folderol nearly cost me my life. And the truth of the matter is that a part of me feels as if I were raped all over again, first by those horrible hospital personnel and then by some of the people in my life who just couldn't fathom that I might not be safe in a hospital.

Days of no liquids, no food, and little rest did take a terrible toll that took months to recover from, but the minutes when I was being resuscitated, the minutes with horrible lucidity sprinkled between the darkness, is something that I still struggle to swallow from time to time.

A visit to a second lawyer has laid the ground work so that, legally, B can now step in and watch over my care, making decisions based on my condition, not perceptions of how well or not well I've dealt with my past.

I have done what I could to ensure a repeat does not take place. I certainly learned then and through the months that followed, who my friends were and who were really not interested in befriending a person whose life is not easy.

I have been on this incredible journey of learning patience at the feet of a sovereign God who knew what April 25, 2007 would bring. He knows about the turmoil that still lingers over that day and the words I feel have yet to be heard. He knows about the pain I have had of late and about the sweltering heat in my office and the burden that brings. He knows my heart and what I need better than do I.

My new friend L (she and S were the two friends I made at my last job) had lunch today. L was in a horrible car wreck a few years ago and understands me immediately when I say that what happened last year changed my life, even though it was belittled, dismissed, and even disbelieved by others, even those in my life I thought cared about me. Her life was changed in such a moment and the ripples from her accident wash over her in unexpected ways at unexpected times. I, too, understand what she means.

So, on this day, what a wonderful blessing it was to share her company over a rather tasty meal of queso and chicken fajitas and my beloved Dr Pepper!

I am thankful for the lessons of our Lord, even if they are not always ones I understand or ones that I would ever choose for myself. While I have been a bit too vocal of late about my growing weakness, the truth of the matter is that my faith is stronger today than it was a year ago.

After all...is that not the only thing that truly matters?

As soon as I walked in the door this evening, I took a muscle relaxer, a mood relaxer, and a narcotic pain pill all together. I am rather hoping my potent cocktail might make a difference. Since I am feeling rather loopy just now--the pain is diminished, but still present and the room is tilting ever so slightly--I emailed B to ask if she would call and make sure I awake tomorrow morning. Am I being risky? I think not. I took the prescribed dose of all of them, and I refrained from washing them down with a bottle of hard apple cider that B and I got from Trader Joe's. If I sleep any better, my plan for the weekend is to crank down the air-conditioner to 68 or so and drug my way to Monday. The hope being that I get enough rest to face another wearing week of my sweltering office.

It was announced at work today that the HVAC repairs would take 3 weeks.

Still stinking hot in my office. I know the management company has been working on the HVAC system in the building, but it sure is taking a long while to get the problem with the system that serves my office resolved. I said it before and I will say it again: The fact that the chocolate in the bowl on my desk melted speaks volumes as to just how sweltering it is in there.

Still much pain.

I think, right now, even if my dear bosom buddy B were here I would ask her to go away. Maybe. I am such horrible company. When I am working, I can shove the pain away to concentrate on that which needs doing. But once I get home, I lose the battle and I struggle to concentrate on anything else.

Last night I slept with two scarves wrapped around my wrists because they hurt so much. I awoke off and on because of the pain in my legs. My back is stiff because I forgot to take my Celebrex this morning. ARGH!!!!!!!!!!!!

I need to focus on the positive, eh?

• I have had visitors 3 weeks in a row.
• I have a GREAT new job.
• I am on a weird winning streak in Scrabble.
• I did not have to mow my lawn this past week.
• Fancy is still hanging in there.
• Three days of rain and no water in my basement.
• My wisteria is blooming.
  
• T called to chat me up even when it hurts her to hear that I am struggling.
  
• B sent me a wonderful LADYBUG card.
• I have plenty of Dr. Pepper in my refrigerator thanks to J.
• I have a new book to read also thanks to J.
  
• I could serve chocolate fondue with the melted chocolate in my office.
• I am the child of a sovereign Lord who is working out His will in my life to His glory.

I am vaguely aware of Saturday. I am not sure where Sunday went.

My friend DB popped by on Saturday to heed the call of my grass. Well, actually, it hadn't really even begun to holler much...more like clearing its throat. I was huddled on the couch when he arrived, all full of vim and vigor. Popping around like a kid, he twitted and poked me as if we were hanging out on the jungle gym in an elementary school playground. Each place he poked hurt, and I told him that in no uncertain terms. He made mocking frowny faces, and but for the fact that he had not yet pushed the mower about the yard, I could have killed him had I had but even an ounce of strength. I was, as you may surmise, not in a good mood. I hurt all over.

My wrists, my ankles, my hips, my back...joints were my enemies. Aligned with them were my rather uncooperative muscles, weak muscles laced with shooting, searing pain. DB finally got the point and left to mow.

I started napping while he was working and do not really remember his departure. I did awake a while later to play with Kashi and Fancy, if you can call feebly tossing his toys about and letting Fancy waddle all over the blanket under which I was huddled (birds really are not meant to walk).

Then I crawled off to bed.

While I know I was awake on Sunday, I truly cannot relate anything of substance. I did not eat. I did not get any writing done. I did not fold any of the laundry at the end of my bed. I did see to Kashi's needs. I did make my way down to the green chair. In short, I basically spent the entire day dozing off and on, while struggling to find a bit of patience with the pain I just cannot seem to escape no matter what pills I chose from my medicine cabinet.

Last week, I stay up late with my Second Cousin D and his family because it was such a rare opportunity that I got to visit with them. I then rested in bulk before meeting up with them again late Sunday afternoon. Thursday, I stayed up late with my dear friend J because I had not seen her in 13 long years. I was so tired after working that I did not realize that I drove them around for 45 minutes trying to take them to find a late dinner. J mentioned the time when we got back and all I could think that it was a good thing that we arrived home safely. For me, it was but a moment in time. I would not change the visits for anything. I have such little company, and frankly I get rather lonely at times, wishing I had places to go and people to see.

But if I did...could I? Could I go and see and do on something other than a rare basis?

Blurred vision, fatigue, and pain seem to have been my new normal of late. I am not ready for this to be true.

The HVAC is still broken. The weather has turned and the HVAC is still broken.

I left the office in tears today. From mid-day on it was a mighty struggle to keep my temper and stay conscious. I was rather weak and weary by the time I called it a day after failing to upload the newsletter that I have been working on for three weeks for the third time. I fear I was less than pleasant with the printer rep on the phone. I have some apologizing to do on Monday.

On Monday when I go back into the office to bake.

The chocolate I have in a dish for fellow co-workers has now melted. That's how hot it is in my office.

When I arrived home, I dialed the thermostat down to 68 degrees. I plan to chill myself for the next two days in the hopes that for a while, at least, I shall survive another day at work.

I know that might sound dramatic, but heat is a horrible thing for people with multiple sclerosis. It exacerbates symptoms and is completely debilitating. While the symptoms subside once the person cools down, I have spent day after day in oppressive heat.

This job is what I have been waiting for...waiting for so long. I have been learning lessons, many rather difficult ones, but ones that stand me in good steed just now. I do feel as if the Lord has been showering lessons of patience upon me. While I am grateful for what I can see changing in my life, I struggle with how difficult such a wonderful opportunity is. When does the peace come?

However, even in my utter despair this afternoon, I was ashamed to find myself wallowing in my fears and frustration when I have been so very blessed of late.

Yes, I have had pain in my legs for days and days. I have found it rather difficult to fall asleep at night for the burning that races up and down my legs, seemingly slicing my muscles with the heat of the pain. I read until I can barely hold my eyes open and then lie there waiting for exhaustion to overcome the pain. On a scale of 1 to 10, I would say the pain is about a 7. The high dose of Celebrex that I am on for my arthritis does not even touch it. Or maybe it does and that is why I can bear it. In any case, I have been blessed.

I had a wonderful visit with B and her family at her cabin. I came home to a new job offer and just one more week of chaos. I started a challenging position with a witty and whimsical, exacting boss at an agency doing good work in the community where I get to write and organize for a living. The next week I have my dear friend D come to visit with her daughters. The week after that my Second Cousin D and his family are here. And the week after that, last night, I get to see my dear friend J for the first time in thirteen years! A friendship of letters, emails, and now cell phones that has borne the weight of time and distance quite well. J is a remarkable woman.

She arrive for the briefest of visits. I was a weigh stations of sorts for her and her husband and one of her children. I had meet none of her family, so greeting them was wonderful. The truly amazing part of her visit was that she came bearing gifts aplenty.

I opened the door, stepped out to meet them all, and found myself standing between two packages of Dr. Pepper. She also brought books and creamy yogurt and gorp and Earl Grey tea and macaroons and other goodies...including a special lotion for feet and legs.

Now I had not yet written about how much my legs are hurting me. She had gleaned all my other likes or needs from my blog, but not that. Not that at all. God knew how I have been feeling. He knows.

The lotion makes my skin tingle, which is soothing and cool and distracting.

So, I was in tears leaving work and am worried about what Monday will bring. In truth, I am most worried at how much weaker I am and what that might mean. I have had far more pain of late than I care for...and yet it is ever so clear than I am cared for...

After arriving at work to find another hot office, I asked (politely) to request that management send out a repair man to investigate the matter. Many hot hours later, I learned that, yes, indeed, the HVAC system is not working. A proposal for repair will have to be submitted to management and then approval sought before the HVAC will be repaired. I foresee many more hot days in my office.

I am feeling that should I finally be able to send the newsletter to the printer that I shall request to work from home on Monday and every day until the day the darned thing is repaired. I am so very weak from the heat that I am literally counting every moment until Friday at 6:00 so I can sleep away the weekend and try to recover.

Currently, I am ensconced on the couch with Fancy on my shoulder and Kashi curled in a ball at my feet, trying to restore myself with some Tillamook cheese, lightly salted peanuts, and some Orange Gatorade. Added to that is an episode or two of Dr Who (I am partly through season one), PLENTY OF AIR-CONDITIONING whether I need it or not, and, hopefully, a game of Scrabble with B!

The latter is a bit iffy, but I formerly put in my request for B time on the way home from work. Lately, we have been in some weird dimension where I win the majority of Scrabble games. While I am absolutely confident that soon the universe will right itself and I shall once more fall victim beneath her superior intelligence and skill during Scrabble games, right now playing, for her, is just not quite enjoyable. Me? Well, I am ensconced in the 600s. Her? She's longing for the 500s.

Winning is great...but then, again, you don't get to gripe about losing!

~~~~
NOTE: While B and I are heart sisters and have much in common, that shared joy does not extend to nuts. For example, she actually consumes pistachios! Ugh! While we both enjoy a snack of cheese and peanuts, she finds my lightly salted peanuts rather disgusting and I find her roasted peanuts entirely unpalatable. She will also consume walnuts and pecans. Mostly I find them obstacles to eat around, especially in desserts!

J sent me a Dr Pepper patch!

I arrived home after a long and stinking hot day at the office to find one of her special letter packets, this time in the form of a handcrafted note card. Inside were a special bag of Earl Grey Ceylon tea, an article, and retro Dr Pepper patch. Oh how she made me smile!

What a wonderful, marvelous thing it is to be thought of in such a loving manner!

I got a wee bit of a contract job this evening that might last a few days, depending on whether or not they wish to further edit the work I have on this task. That would be a very good thing since I just sent off a rather large credit card check to the government to cover the taxes on the money I made doing contract work while I was unemployed last year and last Fall. I am ever so grateful for the money, but I do think that after all is said and done it is something of a incomprehensible notion that I would somehow owe taxes!

This evening, I am working on sponsorship agreements for an international trade show in China. I really enjoy the glimpses I get of other industries and large corporate machinations when I do this sort of contract work. And I enjoy taking really bad documents and turning them into clean, tight marvels of communication! This job was based on other agreement work I have done, so I also have the opportunity to demonstrate the efficiency of all the groundwork I laid last Spring for this company.

Of all the contract work thus far, I have enjoyed the strategic planning and business development work best. Then the knowledge management work. Then the communications work. Then the editing work.

In truth, I have been ever so blessed with the continuum of jobs that have come my way because just one person actually noticed that I had a brain in my head last Spring when I was out selling my soul in temporary work. For example, a few weeks ago I got to see what American Express wanted for a rather large sponsorship; the privilege of the job was the lesson I learned while doing my part of the agreement. What I got to do in the Fall, and to a lesser degree now, is a great reward for those hours and hours and hours of collating, copying, and filing, while trying not to think about the fact that I have 3 college degrees!

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NOTE: My brother expressed great sardonic praise for my bark photos. Now, why ever did he not find them to be most wonderful? I guess if the moss photos elicited a "Gross!" from him, I should be grateful the bark only resulted in gentle ridicule, eh?

B, J, and my Cousin D liked the photos! Oh, do I enjoy feedback!!

B has been exploring photography (it turns out that she has a keen eye for composition), and I had thought we might get to do so together whilst at her family's cabin. I was so excited when I posted the photos, that I called her and made her open my website and start viewing immediately. [I am not above solicited effusive adulation when I feel I am deserving of such.] I explained that while I was exploring the macro setting on my cameras with SM, I couldn't help but wish B was with me. B so rightly pointed out that for us to be able to photograph together, we would need to be without children.

She is right. I would probably let J and E fall into the creek in my enthusiasm to capture the best photo of the water or rocks or algae or something equally beautiful in the Poconos nature. I need to contact her husband G and try to book some B alone time.

Don't you think B ought to pop down for my upcoming b-day? I thought 40 was hard. But I did not realize at the time that at least then (and every day since then) I could say I just turned 40. Turning 41 means I am committing to the decade.

SIGH.

I spent part of the evening working on my two bonsais. While at the arboretum, I realized just how neglected they were.

I have one this is just over 10 years old and another that is over 50. The older one is a mess. I need professional help for it. While I gave it a much needed pruning, I had to admit to myself that the shape is hopelessly lost. I need wire. I need vision. I need help.

The younger one, while a mess in its own right, was much, much more manageable. It is has a bulbous root system and a much more discernible "right" and "wrong" shape for the plant. I think it is fairly well back on its feet.

I enjoyed snipping and studying and studying and snipping. Such peace comes from shutting all else out save for the small piece of God's creation in front of you. Brings about much needed perspective...

Today, my Second Cousin D and his family spent the afternoon with me before heading back down South. I picked them up at their hotel and drove out to the National Arboretum. My Second Cousin D's wife SM is an artist, reveled in the inspiration all around her. She had her camera and I had mine. We took photos together. I cannot begin to tell you how much I enjoyed doing so with another person and with folks who would stop to admire the photos I took, giving praise and constructive criticism alike. Below is a selection of the ones I took. As you will see, I primarily worked on figuring out the macro setting on the three cameras I had with me. The tulips at the end were at the stoplight by the Arboretum. I couldn't resist hanging out the window to take a photograph because I found both the mixtures of colors beautiful and the fern sprinkled throughout the corner bed an added fillip!