Riding The Rough Waves

Good things do happen to good people but sometimes you just have to wait.  I speak from experience, 2 years of physical and emotional hell, and learning old lessons in a new way. From a new outlook, and most importantly, from a new me.  I’m not the person I was 5 years ago, not even 3.  I’m a new person in an old body, and an older soul in the same body.  I am grateful for what I do have. What I don’t have, I probably don’t really need right now; and if I do need it and I don’t have it maybe there’s a reason. I just don’t know what the reason is…….yet.

There are  ALWAYS unfair twists and turns in people’s lives. I don’t have the answer to terrorists or 9/11 or a beautiful baby girl diagnosed with terminable cancer. I’ve learned, however, that we all pay a price in life, nobody goes unscathed. Of course a certain amount of self-indulgence is definitely acceptable.  Why me? Why him? Why us?  There just aren’t answers all the time and part of growing up is the willingness to accept horrible things and still go on. What choice do we have?  We need to learn to ride the waves,  the smooth rippling water and the fierce, crashing undercurrent. There is not one straw that breaks the camel’s back but many, many straws and we need to deal with them, one at a time and probably forever. It’s the way the universe works. Give to it and it will give back to you; maybe not now but sometime in the future.

No one is talking about easy. No one is talking about fun.  It’s your own approach to the world that makes a difference. So, give a little of yourself,  believe that good things will happen and put your energy out there. It may take a good enough amount of time but the last thing you want to do is give up. Play “The Smile Game’ when you feel the most miserable, cranky, depressed or disgusted, smile broadly (even when you don’t feel like it)  go out and see what happens. I KNOW you don’t want to do it, I didn’t either but try (please).  You’d be surprised. People really do react to what they see, we all do.Give a little of yourself to the world, to a child, to a charity and say hello to the universe and to the angels, smiling.

Life is short and it’s a game; sometimes it’s only a crap shoot, other times you have more control.  Believe in something, anything, your G-d, your Buddha, “The Sound of Music” the smell of new cars, Ben and Jerry’s,  Jimmy Choos or for me,  Merrell clogs  While you are on the this good earth, give of yourself, your love, your hope, your time, your gratitude, your patience.  As long as you take the steps to believe in yourself and give to others, you’re more than halfway there.  Welcome home.

for Roland who has helped me, even when the waves were really rough and for Doc who taught me that there were always more straws to break. I thank you.

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Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis and Fibromyalgia # 2

1/11/10

UGH. DOUBLE UGH.

As some of you know, I have Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis which even though it sounds like a special on a dinner menu is an auto immune disease. Before being treated for that, I was formerly diagnosed with  Fibromyalgia.   My Endocrinologist gave me Synthroid when, after menopause, I was diagnosed with an underactive thyroid.   Synthroid brought my thyroid levels back to a normal range but I still felt absolutely horrible.   Months and months later I found my way to a Rheumatologist who diagnosed me with Fibromyalgia and prescribed Cymbalta. I still felt horrible and about a year later I found my guru Dr. who is the Head of Auto Immune Diseases and Rheumatology at a NY hospital.  I think I might be in love with him… he’s a genius.

I  take Plaquannel every day.  And folic acid.  Oh, and methotrexate with a high dose of Vitamin D, twice a week. It pretty much takes me out of commission 4 days of the week  because my stomach rages against the methotrexate for two days each time I take it.  I take Cymbalta for the Fibromyalgia (which I may or may not have) and an anti-depressant used for anxiety issues. I am my own chemical compound. I was also on Prednisone which at high doses makes you feel incredible, high, and young and when you lower it significantly and slowly, you feel like you are in the movie “Cocoon” where the elderly first are given a special potion to feel young and fabulous and later on it goes away and they feel old and horrible again. Heartbreaking but true.  I’m not proud of all the medications I have to take but I am not ashamed either.

According to my guru Dr. in the city “Fibromyalgia is a lazy diagnosis.”  His theory is that anyone with an auto-immune disease like mine will feel achy, fatigued and have muscle pain.  To me, the patient, I don’t care what you call it, as long as you can help me feel better.

It took two complete years to even get on the right track of my initial diagnosis and while I think I am on the right track, it doesn’t mean that I feel swell all the time. It means I feel better and have learned to handle and predict certain situations. I am also 53 and not 23 and that does make a significant difference. Somewhere in this medical mystery of mine, I have had many broken  bones, sprains and torn ligaments;  I think there is a connection with the Hashimoto’s but not definitively.  All I know is that  it hurts and takes a very long time to heal.

My experience with the above urges me to say the following: If you feel that something is wrong, believe it. My internist didn’t believe me at all and actually left the office in a huff when I started crying from all the pain. Go to different doctors for their opinions. Don’t be scared that Dr. Jones will be insulted if you see Dr. Stevens. Nobody cares. Hardest but most important of all, believe that you will get better! You may not be perfect but you will be better and you do need patience for that.  Keep trying and keep believing that you will not always feel this bad. Believe me, I am still learning  and relearning that lesson every single day.

Good Luck!

Fat Fits

OUCH!  My pants are killing me and they are digging into my stomach and causing major red welts. WHO put them in the dryer for so long??! It is obvious that they shrank to a smaller size. Who hasn’t asked the very same question or said those very same words? When you are in your twenties or early thirties, five, even ten pounds are not that hard to lose. You skip some desserts, eat a few more salads with dressing on the side, you’re pretty much back to where you were. Not really a big deal although it probably seems like it when it happens. After all, you have nothing to compare it to. You can moan or groan and be a size 6 or 8 or 12 or 22 and still feel conspicuous. You can lie (as most of us have done) and say it’s “water weight,” “I’m bloated” or “just too much salt in that French onion soup (regardless of the mountain of gooey, stringy cheese on top).”  It’s all very plausible and they basically mean the very same thing. It’s not fun but it is fairly easy.

Now,  we are married and pregnant and you ARE eating for two! Thank goodness I had my children in my early thirties because now I hear that you are only supposed to gain about eight pounds for your entire pregnancy. Eight pounds? I probably gained that in between office visits when I was pregnant.  I didn’t crave pickles and ice cream much to my husband’s disappointment; he wanted me to wake him up in the middle of the night with cravings for chocolate ice cream with butterscotch syrup. I just wanted to sleep without peeing every hour on the hour.   With my son I craved Chinese food, French rolls from Dunkin’ Donuts with grape jelly (no butter) and bologna and orange American cheese sandwiches on white bread with butter; chocolate milk was the beverage of choice. After all, the baby and I needed calcium.

When I was pregnant with my daughter, a  mere twelve months after my son was born, we thought she would be Greek because all I ever wanted were Greek salads with extra feta cheese, all the time. It sounds healthy but it really wasn’t. The Italian (I know, right?) place I got it from gave giant-sized portions with about two pounds of salty feta cheese along with their deliciously creamy home-made dressing; extra dressing on the side, please.  It was a salad, and, in my befuddled brain, that meant healthy. It was also served with a lot of bread.  In addition, since I was pregnant in the summer, Carvel’s vanilla cones, dipped in multi-colored sprinkles were a must or extra thick, creamy French vanilla milkshakes to quell the nausea (if there was nausea), of course. Again, we needed even more calcium.  All that vanilla and my second child, my daughter, loves only chocolate. It figures.

Losing baby weight from two pregnancies in a row is a joke and besides, those pregnancy pants are so darn comfortable. Skip ahead a few years, okay, more than a few, and you’re fifty. You’ve gone through peri-menopause, menopause and post menopause and every single thing in and on  your body changes and you pretty much fall apart. The three pounds you used to be able to lose in two days? Gone.  You have gained weight by NOT changing your diet at all and you’ve developed a large kangaroo pouch for which there is no joey. Your fat is redistributed and your clothes don’t fit the same anymore. Your waist has all but (speaking of the butt, the butt reinvents itself and is its country), your hips take on Titanic proportions and you can’t even begin to describe your upper legs as thighs. They are more like battleships and the more you walk around, the more they shift and fight each other and no one ever wins; there are no survivors.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure things out and you don’t have to be a brain surgeon to put the pieces together; you are older now, middle- aged, middle- aged plus, or old and your body, in a sense, is breaking down. To put it clearly, after a certain age, you really do start falling apart.  I find this happening more to women than men but that could be because we just talk about it more. That is, women talk to women about these kinds of things ad nauseum.  This is not a discussion they are having with their boyfriends or lovers or G-d forbid, their husbands.  If we don’t speak about it, it must not be true.

The years go by, the numbers go up. You try to exercise but the numbers stay the same. If the numbers go up, it’s definitely muscle mass. It’s so damn cold outside how can we exercise? It is way too icy to walk and heaven forbid slip, you don’t want a broken ankle especially because your bones are more brittle now too.  You have the elliptical machine that you could use but with the foot/heel problems you have had your orthopedist strongly recommends you NOT use it because of the trauma to your already torn ligament. Of course there’s indoor swimming, which even if you had the ridiculous amount of money they charge at the gym, the thought of swimming indoors and going back outside to the freezing cold with wet hair is less than desirable. Don’t you get an instant cold that way? That could lead to the flu, swine, regular or all-purpose.

What can you do?  You either fight like hell and become a person who is relentless in starving and maintaining the lowest calorie account imaginable.  You can eat a moderate amount and not forsake all the things you love.  Or, you can eat as much as you want, when you want and just buy bigger clothes.  There are a few options in between and we can justify whichever one we want.  Basically,  fat is a relative thing. Health is a whole other article.  Do what’s right and what’s comfortable for you and don’t let anyone, ANYONE judge you. I’m not saying that I wouldn’t want to lose the extra ten or……if I easily could. But, the fact is, I’ve tried and I’ve tried again. Being 53 I just don’t care that much about what other people think of me. I know who I am and I’m the same woman inside no matter what the label says; let us be comfortable in our own skin, inside and out.

Walnuts with the scent of jasmine

1/06/10

She took a sip of coffee from the Starbucks cup she was holding in her left hand. Her red, raw hands embraced the hot coffee cup tightly,  even with it’s spelled out admonition that the “beverage may be hot.”  In her right hand she held another cup of coffee for a  friend, a friend  and by mistake she took a sip out of that one too, leaving a dull lipstick stain which she hurriedly wiped away.  Girl crush energy.

The air was filled with the scent of walnuts and jasmine and the snow was fresh, virgin white; the sky overhead looked like a a mass of robin’s eggs stitched together, an intense baby blue. There was something about having a crush that just meant the difference between having a good day and having a boring day. There was no sex involved, no THINKING about sex involved. It’s just what girls/women do sometimes; they have girl crushes.

I have come to understand that boys/men do not really understand this concept at all because they hear crush and think sex. Girl  crushes are NOT like that at all.  Maybe your girl crush as an amazing new handbag, or a lipstick the color of plum and rose; or maybe it’s just a brand new friend!  Or the potential for another new friend! New friends are like Christmas presents in July. Rare and unexpected. Crushes in all forms happen all the time and it is NOT a dirty thing. Crushes are not dangerous and they don’t mean affairs or sex.  They are meant for fun or flirtation or both.

I wish men could understand that. Most women do. Of course, there are the uptight kind of women that when you say you have a girl crush they think you are a lesbian. You are not. Tell the uptight people who feel this way to just  grow up. Crushes are not dangerous and they don’t mean affairs.  importantly they do not involve sex. Of course there will be people arguing saying emotional affairs are worse than sexual affairs but that is not at all what we are talking about here.

It’s a fantasy of friendship just like anything else. So, have your girl crush or boy crush or any crush at all. Just have a new crush. Any type of new crush because anything that can get you to smile a little sweeter is a good thing and besides, the winter is really dreary and long, dreary and long…….

Stop Telling Me What To Do !!!!!!

I am absolutely disgusted with the way that information is disseminated from “somewhere” to the public. Who are these people and why do they keep telling us what to do and what not to do, usually within a month or two or five years.   I can’t stand it.  Eat red meat. Don’t eat red meat. Eat fat-free or low fat cheese; wait, we’re wrong  (not that they ever say they are wrong) we changed our minds: now enjoy Brie or Gouda or friggin Munster.  Take a vitamin, don’t take a vitamin.

I’m furious. I feel like that movie in the 70’s,or 80’s,  something about Broadcast News or Broadcast  Something and the guy starts opening windows and saying “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore!!”  What choice do we, the common people have? We can’t start yelling from windows, you’d probably drag us to the nearest hospital.

I don’t think it’s fair to us and I am not sure who to blame.  Is it the Government?  The FDA?  Oh hell, for all we know it could be the TSA and they are a fine one to talk.  This has been going on for decades and probably way before that.  Lay your baby on it’s back when it sleeps, lay it on it’s stomach, lay it’s on it’s left side, right side or rotate like the way you cook a rotisserie chicken.

How on earth are we supposed to know what to do when the rules keep changing every five minutes. How about this?  SHUT UP. You’re not sure, absolutely not sure about the information? Keep it to yourself.  Don’t tell us; that way we don’t have to listen and feel agitated and hurry to do the “right thing” and change and you don’t end up sounding like complete and utter idiots. Not to mention the fact that we have all been spending a lot of money; money that we don’t have for all this……stuff.  I’ve had enough. We all have. Listen to me, to us.

Drink wine, don’t drink wine, take a vitamin, don’t take a vitamin, be thin,  exercise a lot, actually you don’t need to exercise THAT much; wait it depends on your body type. What IS your body type? Peach, pear, apple, or cinnamon raisin?   Eat tofu, don’t eat tofu……YOU, whoever you are, are making people crazy and this is not a good time for any more craziness. Many of us do not have jobs, that’s right, no money coming in. We can’t afford to switch to different products all the time, back and forth; buy organic, no don’t, it really does not make a single, solitary difference. Except it’s more expensive.

Many of us have loved ones in the military, many people have lost people to sickness: yes that’s covered, no it’s not, call your insurance: it will be covered, no, it will not. That’s not “our” decision, it’s the doctors;  wait, no, it’s not the doctor’s decision at all it’s the insurance company…and so forth.

Here is some good, healthy, sound advice.  If you are not one hundred and fifty percent sure of what you are saying? Don’t say it. If there is any reason to doubt the study, study some more. If you don’t have to release the data in a hurry (which has not stopped you before) don’t release it. And, if you’re confused or unsure, don’t speak. Don’t lecture us, don’t sway us, don’t talk. Don’t give us any new information until it has been proven and tested more times than you can breathe. Keep it to yourself. Like that’s going to happen….

In Defense of Fruitcake

1/06/09

I don’t know why fruitcake is so maligned. I love fruitcake and I wish people would stop complaining about it. How did fruitcake become the butt of jokes that start in early November and can be heard by any (yawn) comedian, day time, night time, super late night time or all the time. Enough already. I like eating fruitcake and I don’t care if someone regifts it as long as they regift it to me. There’s a type of fruitcake that has a marzipan filling that I adore. What’s not to like? It’s sweet, soft, comforting, so it has a few artificial colors in it, tis the season. I would buy myself a fruitcake but would fear that I would eat the whole thing and then the five extra pounds could go to ten, in about an hour and a half.

Fruitcake, like brownies, and peanut and butter and jelly sandwiches must be accompanied by a large, fresh, glass of cold milk. Very cold milk. It can be one percent, but not skim milk, which to me looks way too gray, and not, almost-cream- full-fat milk which seems too thick now and reminds me of a butter stick. Stay with one percent, you can’t go wrong.

So, if anyone reading this has made fun of fruitcake, hates fruitcake and regifts fruitcake just remember some people (maybe not many) like it and would love to take it off your hands.

I don’t understand the problem with fruitcake.  I think that there are a lot of people that would stand up for their love of fruitcake but they have no forum. It’s “cool” to make fun of fruitcake. If you want to complain about something edible and wintry, go for those horrid little multi-colored candies that have absolutely no taste. No taste, whatsoever. Now that’s something I would happily regift.

Do You Etch-A-Sketch? (Repost)

Etch-a-Sketch zoo. Anonymous

1/06/10

War*. *Terrorism*. Security*. TSA*  Environment.  Homeless. Cancer. Horrible Diseases. Accidents……. NO!!!!!!  We are NOT  talking about all those scary issues and horrifying thoughts at this moment on this blog. I said NO. We are bombarded ( sorry for the tactless use of this word) with bad news every single, solitary day and night, 24/7.   I stopped watching the news at night because I would get so scared and anxious that I wouldn’t be able to sleep or I would have an anxiety attack for which I would, indeed, need medication.

Today (and for future happy blogs) will only be about:  things that make me happy, things that make me (or you) laugh, anything that brings joy, great yummy stuff (we don’t count carbs or calories here) to eat. So,  here’s to: Joy, Pleasure, Silliness and Laughter. Feel free to write me with those things you love.

Mine starts with Peeps.  I love marshmellow Peeps. Yes, I know I am 53 (ugh) but Peeps make me happy. I have to say though that they were much more fun when you could ONLY get peeps on Easter and my peep chicks (not bunnies) would have to be yellow. They just had to be. There’s a wide variety of colors now too (who ever heard of that?) purple, green, red, and multi-colored. Now you can buy Christmas Peeps, Valentine Peeps, Peeps for any day Peeps,  Peep Day and Be-nice-to-your-dentist-Peeps. That’s a bit controversial; not going to lie. How can you not smile if someone hands you a Peep? Make your day (if you love Peeps like I do) a Peep day. Choose whatever color, shape, design that you want; and think of me, just enjoy and smile.  Note to self: call to make the over-due appointment with the dreaded dentist.

Cadbury Creme Eggs.  I love the creme eggs Cadbury sells (NOT the ones with the caramel) so much.  Love. Them. Crave them.  It has been a tradition since I can remember that my mom used to (okay still does…) buy me one or two Cadbury Creme Eggs when they first came out (how many years ago was that?!)  I think they only come out around  Easter. Imagine Easter peeps and Cadbury creme eggs for a limited period of time. Heaven; and one hell of a sugar high.  They come in tiny mini sizes now so if you eat the whole box of 6, I’m sure it would only add up to one real egg.  How can you not like the fake yolk and white? It’s pure genius and guaranteed to make you so very happy. Just thinking of what these Cadbury Creme eggs look like, even on the outside, (different brightly colored tin foil) makes me happy.  Is it Easter yet?

Who cares if I didn’t win the Nobel Peace Prize or write the new Oprah bestseller. It’s the little things in life we have to enjoy, and make sure we do as often as possible. (I seriously hope my internist and dentist aren’t reading these blogs.) And, I really hope someone from the Food Network or Candy Channel reads this blog.

What else, that is not food-related can I add to this list? I know. Etch-a-Sketch. I love that toy, and by the way, I could write script/cursive on it and I felt way talented as all hell.  Not bad, right? Oh, and Slinkys, those toys are sublime on steps. Not the plastic variety, they aren’t worthy of my attention, but the original silver Slinky…nice. I would add the smell of Play-Doh and Silly Putty but I wouldn’t want anyone to think my emotional growth was stunted in any way, shape or form….

Seriously? I need to either grow up or expand my interests a bit. Grownup things that I love and make me happy: my first and only pair of UGG boots that I paid for myself the second or third year they came out. Didn’t want trendy, just wanted warm. I love my original UGG boots, they make my feet feel happy and warm and safe. Still.

Making home-made pea soup. Making home-made chicken soup.  Baking banana bread, the only decision being is whether to add raisins, chocolate chips or both. I love baking banana bread because my kids and my niece and nephew love it and it makes them happy and it makes me feel special.

All in all, it’s a happy, fun list, right? Nothing scary, nothing to panic over. Just one more thing to add: Watching One Tree Hill with my 15 year old daughter, that makes me the happiest of all or deeply regretful depending if she sees this or not.

Happy Silliness to us all.

*President Obama: I voted for you, I support you, I’m with you all the way, but dude, seriously? Focus. Get together with the TSA and make it work. No joke.

p.s. I own no legal copyrights to any of the above mentioned items. Nor do I get free products from them. I wish.

Pain, Feels Like Old Times

This morning, I tried to get out of bed, tried being the operative word. I felt like I did when my Fibromyalgia was in full bloom. Not that it is in any way anecdotal to flowers, delicacy or beauty. I feel like old times. The hard part is that I don’t know if this is a flare-up, even though I am still taking my medications. The only one I haven’t been taking recently is the Estrogel, a gel that you put on your arms used for Hormone Replacement Therapy. Could that be a cause for what I am feeling?

When you hurt all over, and struggle to get up the stairs,  when you don’t know where the pain and aches are coming from you feel even more at a loss.  I went away for a few days over the holidays, we took a plane, could it be a bug that I caught from the plane? It’s so hard to diagnose yourself when you have a multitude of factors. I feel like I have the flu again, without the temperature. Exactly the same as when I had Fibromyalgia which my autoimmunologist says is “a lazy diagnosis. ” He is treating my auti-immune disease (Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis) with immuno-suppresant drugs, which, of course, have side effects too.

I am sitting or rather lying in my bed afraid to move a muscle. Every muscle and bone in my body is in pain right now and I haven’t felt this way in a long time. It gives me time to appreciate how well I was doing compared to this but I am now questioning what got me here? Sometimes, those of us with chronic pain, unfortunately, blame ourselves. That is where I stand right now. Motionless, covered by piles of blankets and feeling upset, both physically and psychologically. I blame myself for stopping the HRT when I did not hear back from my Dr.  I blame the weather, it’s nasty cold snap feels like it’s physical abuse, striking me all over my body. It could be something, It could be nothing; the reality is, I honestly don’t know.

Do I start reapplying the HRT gel when this could be a virus? I forgot how bad I felt before, and I am not happy to have a reminder.  Do I continue the HRT when inherently I am not comfortable taking bio -identical hormones? I don’t know what I have or what to do. I don’t want to take more and more medicine but frankly today I am a complete mess. When I took Advil I felt better, apparently it has worn off. I feel scared and vulnerable all over again, I want to hide under my pink fuzzy blankets. I want to lie still, as still as the night, to try and assess what I’m feeling and why. The truth of the matter is I may never know, and I feel incredibly helpless and alone.

Music Therapy (aka as cheaper than the other kind)

Ever since my  friend Linda and I were eliminated from singing in the chorus in seventh grade (with mean Mr. Patterson) I haven’t been the same and still  think he was totally wrong (not that I hold a grudge).   I have moved on and his mistake did not stop me from singing out loud and enjoying it but even being placed in the chorus?  How bad were we?  I love to sing and while I may not have the BEST singing voice I’m not horrific. I think I can carry a tune fairly well, I don’t shriek or scream, doesn’t that count for something? People don’t look askew when I sing or give me dirty looks. I have said before I enjoy it no end; the world needs people who love to sing.   Music makes me feel better and since I can’t afford therapy as much as I would like or need,  I have relied on this blog ( which has gotten me into serious trouble with some family members) and music. Music, trust me, is much, much safer.

I know I am dating myself and calling myself a nerd at the same time but in the early seventies, John Denver could take me out of any vile mood and make me smile and sing along. No, I was not “passing the pipe around” as he sang but he could always make me feel better. Always. Until he divorced Annie and then when he died. My best friend Paula and I were devastated. After not being in touch for months, we called each other that day. How could John Denver die?  We barely had forgiven him for divorcing Annie. She “filled up his senses,” he named the song after her, they adopted children ( oh wait, am I confusing him with Tom Cruise again?) Apparently  after the divorce from Annie, who we felt we all knew I think he remarried.  I mean, really.  Then there were viscous rumors, a lot of rumors about his excessive drinking, cavorting and doing major drugs.  Allegedly. That was when the John Denver fan club ended.

But dying?  That was a whole new and last chapter and one that was really sad and unbelievable to us. How could he have died in an airplane? What was he thinking? It seemed too horrible to think about; after all he was our first musical crush and the first ever concert we went to.

It took a long time after his death to play his music again. First it made me sad and angry and then with time, like everything else, I began to remember the John Denver that made me happy when Paula and I were in High School filled with some type of drama. Now I can still play his music  (and yes, I do still play his music) and feel the happiness I felt when  I was 15; kind of.  It’s not  really the same, of course, but now it’s better and soothing and I know every word to every song he ever made. RIP.

My latest choice of songs to make me forget my troubles and to smile is a song by The Kinks called “Better Day” which I have been playing every day since my friend Scott posted it. It is going to be my theme song for 2010. It’s upbeat and it makes one feel happy and hopeful like no other song.   For variety, my happy mood music always includes Bruce Springsteen( that’s for you Claudine).  I have different music for different moods; there is Josh Groban, Neil Young,  CSN&Y and of course The Beatles. There’s also time when you just need girl music: Sarah Mclaughlan, Sheryl Crow, Wynonna, The Corrs, Carole King and Carly Simon, Madonna and yes, Barbra Streisand.

Of course this is all biased but we should never, ever forget Simon and Garfunkel whose songs I think should follow the National Anthem o or at least played in the Smithsonian.  They sing Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline at Red Sox games, there should be a place for Simon and Garfunkel, somewhere.

There aren’t many people I would see in concert again. Saw James Taylor and he was rude and sarcastic, saw Crosby, Stills and Nash and their voices were….umm…different.  There is/was  Peter, Paul and Mary who I could not enjoy since another legend, Mary, died.

I would see Simon and Garfunkel again (perfection)in concert and maybe Carole King. I leave the Rap bands to my 2 teenagers, I know they like it but they also like that we hate it. Works every time.  It would give my husband and I a headache to go to a Rap concert, but it might be worth it to totally embarrass our kids!

So next time, before you head for the Xanax container or your favorite cocktail or 5, take a deep breath, turn on the music and listen. Listen until you find the song that makes you feel good, or if you want to cry, try a sad song. Therapy is very expensive and it is worth it bu give music therapy a try first.  Music therapy, the first step for intervention, give it a try. Because even though it helps to have someone nod his or her head at something you said, music is relatively cheap, it’s always available and you never get charged for an appointment if you don’t cancel 24 hours before the session. Try it because the beat of music, really does go on and on….

For Paula, Scott and Claudine