FWF Kellie Elmore

“We don’t read and write poetry because it’s cute. We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering – these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love – these are what we stay alive for. To quote from Whitman, “O me, O life of the questions of these recurring. Of the endless trains of the faithless. Of cities filled with the foolish. What good amid these, O me, O life? Answer: that you are here. That life exists and identity. That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse. What will your verse be?

burst of color

burst of color (Photo credit: zbigphotography)

APPLE COMMERCIAL NUMBER 2: FWF

Those special moments. Captured for a lifetime, they will exist because of us, because of you. We just strive to make it easier. The beauty, the flowering buds, the burst of energy of that last second slam dunk in a perfect basketball game. Sharing a glass of red wine, nestled with your loved one, in your matching soft, red checked fleece pajamas and matching slippers. If not for the two of us, the world would be stationary, dull, black and white. Motionless. We bring you Life. Warmth, vibrant colors, sounds and sights like exploding fireworks in Denmark or China or in New York City or a softly beaten trail where no one has been..yet. Anywhere you go, we will be there. Snowy mountain tops, sounds of laughter from a family. The warmth, a close up photo of a fireplace, logs burning, take a deep breath, you will swear you were right there. If you can’t be there, we can and we will bring it home for you. Don’t miss out on the Wonders of Life, Nature. Whether it is for Flowers or Animals, Birth or Birds we capture the special moments in your life. The Time of your Life is Now, in this moment, in every moment.

We bring it Home.

From our Home to Yours.

Apple. iPad2

Image representing Apple as depicted in CrunchBase

Image via CrunchBase

Enhanced by ZemantaPhoto Credit: Zbig Photography
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Yellow Magic Madness # 21: Fireworks

English: A chocolate cake during the 4th of July

English: A chocolate cake during the 4th of July (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In keeping with the Fourth of July, here in the States:

Red, White, Blue (and Yellow)

HAPPY JULY 4 th.

English: fireworks seen across the at Washingt...

English: fireworks seen across the at Washington, D.C., USA. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Have a safe and wonderful weekend.

Playing Archery In The Dark, Buck Naked

Cover pain

Cover pain (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Just kidding. I’m about to emote and perhaps complain and I thought it was a catchy title which somehow worked it’s way inside my brain out of nowhere. It’s the evening of the fourth of the July and I am feeling lonely and uncomfortable. The high point of my day is hearing the thunderstorms outside. It’s hot, about 80 percent humidity and I feel like an old woman with my joints (not THOSE kind of joints) swollen and my muscles tense and painful.

I know my fellow Fibromyalgia mates feel the same way but it doesn’t make me feel better. Everything hurts, I can barely stand up without extreme effort. I am in pain both physically and emotionally.

I think I hate holidays more than I ever have. I used to love them when the children were young and when my dad was alive and when my sister and I used to get along better. Now? They are just a painful reminder of all that I don’t have. Holidays seem to bring the worst out of everybody, senses over stimulated, emotions seem raw.

I have a sister who seems like she is just a few miles from estranged, we talk once in a while but we can never agree or love each other for who we are. It’s a shame, I know, but our history is not in our favor. We try to keep it together for our mother. It works both ways. It just reaffirms everything we are not.

I miss our dad who has been dead for a very long time. He loved this holiday, he would swing a fake pointer and pretend to be the orchestra conductor; the Macy’s Fireworks would light up his bedroom concert hall. I couldn’t even watch it on television this year, it made me too sad.

Time moves on, I can accept not liking certain holidays. I know that both my children are leaving for college in the fall. I know I am not young anymore and that my chin droops from where I have lost weight.

I am grateful for what I do have: a loving husband, two great kids, a crazy puppy, my mom and plenty of friends that I trust and rely on. One can’t have everything. A friend suggested I copy this to remember:

Serenity Prayer

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

PFAM – Where Is Your Happy Place?

The Office cast in the third season

Image via Wikipedia

I don’t know where my “Happy Place” is. I’m not sure I even have one. A fantasy I have is living in a house on the ocean, warm, sunny weather, about 75 degrees, pink lemonade in colorful plastic glasses. Unless I win the lottery, (that’s another happy place) that’s not realistically going to happen. My life is really a collection of special moments that I have had already. My go-to place now is in the past.

Those positive memories in my mind, sometimes hard to get access to, are my happy places. My happy place is watching The Office with my seventeen year old daughter lying next to me, the sound of our laughter co-mingling. Browsing in the supermarket slowly, holding on the cart and looking at every new product is fun. For me, it’s a state of mind. I’m not going to lie and say it always works because there are times when I can’t conjure up a happy place. Those are the times when I curl up in bed, hurting, safely tucked in under the covers, trying to keep my pillow cool and my body warm, my dog snoring beside me. I accept those moments too, afterall, you can’t appreciate the happy places without the unhappy ones.

Creme Brulee ice cream from Ben & Jerry’s, is a happy moment as well as a maple lollipop sent from a friend that I treasured for months before I gave myself permission to lick the amber sweetness. Helping other people makes me feel good, doing a good deed. Just the other day I saw an elderly neighbor looking upset and I helped her out; she was confused and worried about a “missing”  eight year old boy; I drove her around the neighborhood as we tried to find the location of a dawdling boy who hadn’t yet made it to his neighbor’s house for his ride to camp.

Filling my bird feeder after it’s been empty for a while with sunflower seeds so that the beautiful cardinal family and finches will come back makes me happy. I get happier after they find the food when they sing and dance, chirp and flutter and sing their melodious songs to each other. At night, watching fireflies is a happy moment, every time I see a deer I gasp with joy or a gray bunny rabbit hopping across our front yard.

I wish I had a happy place that I could go to easily but I don’t; it would reassure me and help me to feel peaceful and safe. That’s not my world though, it would be simpler if I had one. So, I try different things all the time, looking at old photographs when my children were young, doodling on a notepad, having the perfect peach, listening to my favorite songs and singing out loud, clear, strong and off-key. Those things make me happy, but to be honest, I have to work at it to find them.

Independence (PFAM Blog Carnival)I

Fireworks #1

Image by Camera Slayer via Flickr

I don’t remember what complete “independence” is anymore. I used to know how it felt, before my illness. I remember quickly dashing through crowded city streets, staying out late, going to the Village after a movie before I headed home via taxi to cross the Brooklyn Bridge. I was young, admittedly, but there was little fear and so much to do.

FIbromyalglia and Chronic Pain took away my spontaneity and instant fun and robbed me of joy. While I can still do many things, I need to wait until the same day to see how I feel. That hurts, not only physically, but emotionally. I can drive my car, if I have enough energy. I can go shopping for food, when I feel I am up to it. Last week my husband and I went to the first movie we have seen outside our home in years. I felt free, we had a bite to eat, and we went to see the new Woody Allen movie and I was happy. It was one day, one joyful day out of many.

I plan on going to my son’s college orientation this summer; I do not want him to be the only student without a parent there but still I worry. How much will I be able to do? Can I get a taxi from the hotel to the campus? Will I be able to walk a few blocks? I know there’s a tour but I will have to sit it out. I am the sick mom.  I will smile sweetly and tell my son to report back every single detail while I sit on some bench, shaking my head back and forth, holding back the tears.

I am not that old but I feel old. Even the new medication I was on to give me energy has failed me. I was happy for a few weeks and I told my chronic pain friends that “Yes, There Was Hope for Fibromyalgia” and now I don’t know anymore. I feel bad for the people who thought I had found relief; I feel more sorry for myself wondering what happened and why this medication failed me, like so many others.

I rely on my husband, I am dependent on him; he knows the look in my eyes when I feel tired and depleted and when I hurt. He supports me, takes my arm. Part of me wants to pull away and say “I’m not a grandmother” yet part of me holds on and appreciates his love and help. My teenagers’ friends have seen me more in my pajamas than not. They have seen me lying in bed, with a book or the computer and even though I shout out a happy and cheerful “hello” I am embarrassed and I feel like I have let my children down.

Thankfully, my mind is still independent, I can think and emote and write and my imagination is not limited by my body. At the same time, I weigh myself down because the joy of spontaneity is lost forever. If I make a plan, even at the last-minute, I always have to think steps ahead, the amount of walking, sitting, standing, driving. If I decide I will push myself to go to the city and do something fun, I worry about if I will find a taxi because my ability to walk is limited. It usually keeps me home.

Independence Day is tomorrow, I would love to see fireworks, they make me so happy. I love the excitement and the blasts of color  and the screaming and the thrill. But, I won’t be going, because there are too many variables that stand in my way. So, on Independence Day, I will not be celebrating with throngs of other people. I  know that I can’t walk miles to see the show, I know that if I had to go to the bathroom there are none in suitable walking distance,  I cannot sit on the hard grass for the hours it takes  for the show and I will miss that dearly. On Independence Day, and many other days, I am dependent.