I Can’t Wrap My Brain Around This…Batman, Dark Night (Knight)

Rosie O'Donnell

Rosie O’Donnell (Photo credit: Project M·A·R·C)

If I could pick one person, celebrity or friend, stranger or neighbor that I would want to spend time with today, I would pick Rosie O’Donnell. I wouldn’t pick her because she is famous and rich,  I would pick her because I think she is going through what I am going through now: shock and disbelief and utter, overwhelming sadness. I would pick her because she cares, because she is a mom and a woman and she had the nerve, or guts, to stand up to the NRA, perhaps not with diplomacy (agreed) but really…..look at us here again. Can you blame her?

The Colorado Mass Shootings at a Batman movie, midnight show.

I am a citizen of the United States and I am depressed and disgusted and I’ve had enough and so have many others. Gun manufacturers ruling our countries? It’s time NOW, politicians, all politicians to take a STAND and mean it. Why is that so terribly difficult?

I think of the families of these poor victims, waiting at home, waiting for news and it makes me want to cry. There is a great piece in Huffington News that is very well written that I suggest you read as well. This cannot go on, it should have been outlawed many years ago, think Columbine. I’ll be sitting home tonight, safely wrapped in a blanket, praying my children will be close by, giving each one an extra hug. To the families of the victims, I am so terribly sorry. No, I can’t relate because thus far I have not gone through your immense pain.

Will there ever be any sense made of this crime? I doubt it. Just grief, long, interminable waves of grief. I wish I could help. I know I can’t. I’m sorry.

Mellow Yellow Monday: My Favorite Color Of All: Yellow Roses

yellow_rose

yellow_rose (Photo credit: pepperazzi)

Mellow Yellow Roses, (would be a great idea for my birthday, please.)

My favorite color and my favorite flower now joining hands, with glee.

Yellow roses, sprung from Nature to fill me with delight and joy.

Happiness, to me, comes in Yellow.

Would you like to be my Mellow Yellow Friend?

Carry on Tuesday: “Run when you can, walk if you have to, crawl if you must; just never give up.”

English: a little shy girl Русский: ЗАСТЕНЧИВА...

English: a little shy girl Русский: ЗАСТЕНЧИВАЯ ДЕВОЧКА (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

She had always given up too easily. As long as she could remember, she chose not to fight but to deflate, like the air sizzling, slowly, out of a big brightly colored blue balloon. Why, she wondered now? Was it just her character or was she never able to feel safe and confident as a young girl even in her own home? It was hard to differentiate one from the other. Nature vs. Nurture?  Was it because she had  been six weeks premature and had to stay in the hospital for that long in a heated crib? She had always been a shy girl, an anxious one too.  Whose fault was that, she asked herself, in her older years. Surely it was not hers alone? Did her parents not think this was unusual enough to warrant some extra attention?

She didn’t like “playing board games”like Scrabble because there was no game that she thought she could do well in and she was easily embarrassed and ashamed. Had she dug right in, like others she knew and practiced feverishly, she could probably have been on top in at least one or two things but she never stayed long enough. It was a shame, she thought, later on in her life. No one had ever encouraged her to keep trying, it was almost as if they expected little so she gave them what they expected. She felt just like a tiny speck against a world made up of giant red rocks and icy mountain peaks, even large green valleys. She could disappear easily and no one would notice.

She tried to disappear one day when she was about thirteen or fourteen. Their family had a shared cabana at a beach club and one day she took off walking a very long distance and stayed away for hours. She wanted her family and friends to worry, to look for her, she wanted to be missed but when she eventually started walking back, and came “home” no one said a thing; they never even knew she was missing. She was upset, and mad that no one had even noticed.

She gave up all the time, but it didn’t seem like giving up when she was doing it, only years later, while looking back at her youth she figured out that she had been too scared, too fragile, too afraid to try new things. She gave up before she could fail; that was a very lonely and limiting life. She pushed boyfriends away before they became too close. She knew they weren’t serious, so she ended the relationship, knowing it would never be more than what they had then. She regretted that only once in her life but she didn’t have the emotional capacity, at the time, to communicate well.

Looking back forty years, she could see when her life had come to an emotional halt. It’s as if the brakes were firmly pushed and there she stood, alone and apart from most of her friends. Her husband still teased her about playing with Barbie dolls at fourteen with her friend, Linda. She was definitely a “late bloomer,”  her comfort companions were stuffed animals that surrounded her bed for many years. Even now, one or two are tucked under her pillow.

Now, as an older person, she sees the world in a different way. While physically she cannot run anymore, her mind jogs like the wind, as fast as possible. She is no longer shy and introverted but strong in her opinions and in her intuitive feelings. When she walks now, she walks with a brightly, colorful cane to help her balance issues but that does not stop her from walking, it fuels her with confidence, a confidence she never before had. Lastly, if she doesn’t like the sound of something she has written or a photograph she has taken, she will take another and another and not give up, until she knows, in her heart that it is exceptional and only she has to love it for it to be magnificent and divine.

Haiku Heights – Meaning

Batman: The Dark Knight

Batman: The Dark Knight (Photo credit: lamazone)

DEDICATED TO THE FAMILIES AND THE VICTIMS OF THE COLORADO KILLINGS.

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Tragedy anew,

I curl up like a seashell

Blocking out gun fire.

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Live a fearful life

The absence of awe and joy

I refuse to choose.

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Forge through cement walls

blood splashed upon the theater

red-purple pain, death.

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Senseless tragedy

What is the meaning of life

Destroyed so quickly?

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Carry on Tuesday: Rain, rain, go away

Storm Clouds

Storm Clouds (Photo credit: freefotouk)

Scott and Sarah were days away from their honeymoon, excited to be going to Paris, France after their  sunny and warm wedding reception in Boston, MA. They couldn’t think of a more romantic place to go than Paris. To be in love and to be in Paris, enchanting and delightful, they imagined long walks, holding hands on the small, cobbled streets and kissing furtively behind hidden doorways. They couldn’t wait for the chocolate croissants, standing in the sunshine,  many cups of lush, thick coffee with cream, a different apple or pear pastry for every meal…..the intoxicating smell of freshly baked bread wafting on the side streets.

They arrived two days after their wedding reception, having spent one night in a luxurious room overlooking the Boston Harbor, a gift from their friends. They had been driven there from the reception, Sarah, still in her wedding dress and white sneakers, Scott in his immaculate dark blue suit and maroon tie. Sarah refused to change into another dress, it was her wedding after all and she delighted in seeing other people point at her and gasp: “a bride!” When little girls with pigtails looked at her in awe she smiled and waved at them. Watching a bride, when she was a girl, was always magical.

Their plane left in the evening and they flew on TWA straight to Paris. They arrived, excited, happy, in love, dreams dancing in their eyes. The weather the first day was colder than they thought it would be. Sarah, secretly thanked her mother who had insisted she bring a raincoat in her luggage.

The sky was gray and dark, winds were chilly and it rained within the hour. They made their way to their tiny hotel, dragging their suitcases through city streets until they finally reached their destination. Sarah was not happy about that, there were no rolling suitcases back then and she was tired, cranky and hungry and just wanted to close her eyes. Scott refused to take a taxi, absolutely refused, Sarah was furious and thus their honeymoon started.

Every day of their vacation in France was cold and it rained every single day. “Rain, rain, go away” Sarah sang out loud but she only got angrier when the rain did not let up. To try to get away from the weather they decided to rent a car and head South, they would salvage their honeymoon. However, wherever they went, the rain followed, the winds blew freezing air and the skies were dark gray.

Sarah was there over her birthday and they had eaten lunch in a rest stop on a toll road. They both ate chicken with rice pilaf. It tasted fine, but within an hour, Sarah was throwing up violently, over and over again. It was the worst case of food poisoning she had ever had. “Happy Birthday, ME” she muttered to herself, swishing her mouth out with Coke. They cautiously drove to a quaint, old town in the country where they stayed in a beautiful, old castle. From the outside it looked like a movie set but once inside it was eery and dark. There was no light in the hallways and in their room except for one hanging bulb, swinging from a thin rope.

They called it “the honeymoon from hell”, they couldn’t wait to get back to the US and their apartment. It was the worst vacation they had ever taken. Once home, Sarah, who had packed only one warm, black sweater as an after thought, ended up wearing it every day for two solid weeks. The first time they lit a fire in their fireplace, she tossed the black sweater in the fireplace, along with their memories and happily watched them burn up in flames.

My Fibromyalgia Vacation

Rhode Island Retreat 2983

Rhode Island Retreat 2983 (Photo credit: WebAdvantage.net)

I bet for a second you actually thought I got a vacation from Fibromyalgia and ALL my aches and pains. Oh, silly you, you know THAT’S not possible, that’s not even a thought that enters my sane mind anymore. Actually, it doesn’t even enter my insane mind. I’m stuck with this horrid disease, as I know so many of you are, and we are going nowhere, well, not fast. Fast is a past tense word. I don’t do anything quickly anymore, with the exception of napping and eating.

My husband and I went away for a couple of days, it was a short car ride that we broke down in two days. Yes, we stopped overnight so I wouldn’t have to sit in the car for four hours which, I thought, was extremely sweet and generous of my husband. After all, money is tight and in August we are sending two kids to college (state schools, thank goodness, but two in college at the same time.)

We arrived at our lovely Bed and Breakfast and it was the first time I noticed someone actively noticing me. The Inn Keeper was watching me, she stared at me, not unkindly, but with acknowledgment. I only had one computer bag in my hand and she said “let me take that for you, it’s easier for me.” This was not a woman who was much younger than me but when I saw her sprint up and down the stairs like a youthful kangaroo I realized how old and how sick I must look and seem. It was devastating to me and quite alarming.

I am used to my small circle of friends and family who are with me all the time and know about the chronic pain and illness. The stiffness in my bones, muscles, the nerve pain, the imbalance, the awkwardness of going up stairs (and these were deep and wide stairs.) My husband’s arm was always at the ready and I’m sure she noticed that too but I felt so conspicuous. I felt like I had a sign on my back that read: DAMAGED GOODS. Apparently, I did.

I have other tests coming up soon and if those are okay I know I will be thankful for just having Fibromyalgia and Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis (an auto-immune disease of the thyroid.)  I am not complaining about how I feel physically as much as the shock I felt when the inn-keeper looked at me, with equal parts of pity, kindness and sorrow. She was NOT trying to make me feel bad in any way, but bad is how I felt, I’m so used to feeling physically bad that I don’t know what physically good feels like anymore. Physically painful is my new normal. I felt emotional pain from a stranger for the very first time and that hurt.

Haiku Heights – First

Cherish the pink sky

Cherish the pink sky (Photo credit: Darwin Bell)

The undying rain

Torrents of gray-black madness

First crack of dawn’s light.

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Hear the sound of the falling rain...

Hear the sound of the falling rain… (Photo credit: Sven Festersen)

Love, like shiny rocks

glistening in the new sun

drops of water, grin.

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Pink sky, love abounds

nature is holy, trees

Beauty is the Spring.

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Mellow Yellow Monday – Pears

Pears Held              Perfectly ripened pears. Oh, that heady scent. Eaten alone or perhaps with some cheese as a snack.

As my old friend, Debbie, suggests, on a sandwich, thinly sliced with dill Havarti and a multitude of other goodies. Pears are the perfect fruit. From now on,

PERFECT PEARS

will be on my sandwiches too. Thank you, Debbie.

Plinky Prompt: Are You Good At Reading Maps?

  • Where Am I?
  • Is This The Right Map?
    Map What’s a MAP? Just kidding, I know what they are, I grew up with them piled in my father’s car, folded (just so) and housed in crevices in the doors of our old cars. We got them at gas stations. I couldn’t read maps way back when and I still can’t; a skill my husband finds abhorrent. He still reads maps and enjoys doing it. I prefer “Jill” my GPS even when she is incorrect. I rely on Jill because I have NO SENSE OF DIRECTION. None. Nada. Bupkes. I get lost going around the block. I can go to a place one hundred times and get lost each and every time. I’m not bragging, I’m confessing. I asked a doctor about this once. He reassured me, some people have a sense of direction and some don’t. Some like writing, some like math. Enough said.

Eating For This And That

English: Individually wrapped slices of Americ...

English: Individually wrapped slices of American cheese. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In addition to eating for enjoyment, I’ve realized food choices reflect my mood. When I am nervous I can eat rapidly, going from one food to the other at an alarming rate: sweet, salty, sweet, salty, crunchy, soft, sweet, salty. When I am worried (I’m in that stage now) food has very little appeal to me and I need to force myself to eat.

I remember when my dad was in the hospital for quadruple by-pass heart surgery my mother complained to him that “your daughter has not eaten in three days.” Like he needed to hear that! But, I do remember having to force myself to take a bite of my age-old comfort food, bread, butter and Kraft’s American Cheese (individually wrapped.) My only beverage of choice was a Yoo-Hoo. To this day, if I can’t eat, which admittedly is rare, I will rely on the same things or scrambled eggs with a lightly toasted English muffin with butter and grape jelly (not jam) to put something in my stomach.

Comfort food. The things we had in our childhood that made us feel better. I had a friend whose comfort food was a hamburger. I found it strange but to her it was comforting, that is what her mother made her when she didn’t feel well. It was her version of my American cheese sandwich. What are some of your comfort foods? I’d love to hear about them and why. No judgment here. Love,food and comfort, they unite us all.