Blah Humbug

Dear Friends,

How are you? I’m fine, really.  I just want to clarify something. Sometimes I vent my feelings on this blog and people worry but please realize when I vent its my way of getting a release.Of course I have pain sometimes but I live with that and work through it. I don’t suffer 24/7. I promise. Trust me, if I did, you would hear me scream at your houses.

You can always ask me any question. My way of getting RID of negative feelings or pain is working through them and writing about them, I don’t want anyone to be concerned. If you feel worried, ask me any question.

Also, remember I’m a bit sneaky. Many times I weave fiction and non fiction together, so you may not know who is writing what. As I say in my blurb: “There’s a little fiction in non-fiction and a little non-fiction in fiction, you decide.”

So, today I’m not depressed, physically I feel fine. I don’t hurt everywhere, my kidneys are hanging in there and my anxiety level is low. I saw the sunshine for a brief amount of  time, for me that is always good! The cold seemed less cold in my kind of new green jacket that was handed down from my sister to me. I love it!  It’s a beautiful shade of green/purple that shimmers, hard to describe, I know.

I’m not happy or sad, not melancholy or enthusiastic. I’m just plain blah. (I am amusing myself, as my children know I do, very often, by the witty title of this blog) and it is making me laugh.)

I wonder if my mood is the same for me every year and I turn to my husband and ask. “Pretty


Embed from Getty Images

much” he says because he knows that this is a rough time of year for me. Why do I forget this every single year? Do I just block it?

My dad died on New Year’s Eve so these holidays hold pain, genuine heartbreak, along with joy. My children are not children anymore, they are grown-ups with lives of their own, they sleep and eat at our house during college breaks, but they don’t need us like they did when they were young. I miss (and don’t miss) the very young years, the affection, how they loved us and needed us and how we were their world.


Embed from Getty Images

I am also incredibly PROUD of the independent young woman and man they have become. Truly, I am beyond proud of my two kids, “we do good kids” my husband and I say to each other a couple of times a year. We do a lot of wrong things and have MANY faults but our children are good people, people the world will be happy to have.

We are not young anymore or really old.  We’re not grandmas or grandpa’s yet (sometime, I hope) nor are we the current generation. We are the almost but not retiring boomers. We can’t retire, we don’t have enough money. We need to take care of our living parent (s) and are still responsible for our not yet independent adult children.

I don’t feel anything really strongly, certainly nothing dramatic.This is not a bad thing at all. It’s like a vacation from the drama that goes on in my life. I think I will try to make this last as long as possible. Blah: The New Vacation, A Cheap And Safe Alternative To Flying. You Don’t Have To Leave Your Home, Or Better Yet, Your Armchair.

Rejoice, Blah is the new Awesome.

Who could ask for more?

 WISHING ALL MY READERS AND FRIENDS A WONDERFUL HOLIDAY SEASON AND A HAPPY AND HEALTHY NEW YEAR!!! (Hey, it’s ME, did you really think I would put a bottle of bubbly instead of dessert?)


Amaretto, raspberry, champagne, and pear choco...

 

Yellow Mellow Magic Madness

Yellow # 55 (Photograph by Author)
It is sleeting outside, it’s been a bad day. I’m looking at this peaceful photograph I took last year. I SHOULD meditate. Perhaps this is the reminder I need to set aside 20 minutes twice a day. I need it, I know that for sure. I will start tomorrow.
Buddha
One of my favorite sayings and I am sorry I don’t know the source: “Praying is talking to God, Meditation is Listening

Plinky Prompt: Describe Your Perfect Rainy Day

Bentley Tea Cup

Bentley Tea Cup (Photo credit: snap713)

  • Safe inside, toasty warm, while water pitter-patters on the roof… describe your perfect, rainy afternoon. See all answers
  • Thinking in the rain
  • Actually, my perfect rainy afternoon would be living in a climate where it doesn’t rain BUT, I will be good and play along:

    A cup of jasmine tea, sitting on a window bench, looking outside, my dog sleeping peacefully near me so I can hear her breathing, daydreaming, a fire in the fireplace, writing an entry into my blog, no stress in my life, matching my breathing with the pattern of the rain, no thoughts, mindful meditation. Relaxation.

    English: A snail on a rainy window

    English: A snail on a rainy window (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Mellow Yellow Monday – My Home

Yellow Flowers

German Shepherd
German Shepherd (Photo credit: Rennett Stowe)

Yellow flowers

Yellow door
Yellow door (Photo credit: LondonAnnie)

Finally, I live in a small white house that has a yellow door. Imagine just locking and unlocking my door every day, several times a day, makes my smile light up like a jack o’ lantern. I don’t like too flashy or bright colors but rather, warm and welcoming. Framing the house, and in the small garden, are yellow flowers, all different kinds, but easy to take care of and maintain. In the warm weather, I sit in my garden and slowly  sip my hot tea, with cream and sugar, and I take a few moments appreciating this lovely bit of a place. My big, rescue dog, named Shep, lies beside me and I stroke his fur and he puts his head on my lap. I marvel at how wonderful my older life has become, feeling the sunshine on my face and how much I appreciate my simple life here, at home.

Plinky Prompt: TV Habits

A recreation of the logo for the first America...

A recreation of the logo for the first American Survivor season, Survivor: Borneo. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

  • TV Habits
  • TV: It’s Better Than Drinking or Smoking
    Emmys 2009 Well, there’s Grey’s Anatomy and of course Private Practice (they are practically connected by blood.) There’s Parenthood (which took the place of Brothers and Sisters which some moron took off the air.) Modern Family is a must see and I do admit my husband and I found ourselves back again, after many years, watching the last season of Survivor. I know……we swore we would never watch it again, but times were hard, and reality can be such a bitch that for one hour a week we sat on our faux leather couch, shut the door to the family room and escaped to whatever paradise island they were in. I’m not proud but I’m not ashamed. We may even watch it next season too……sometimes all you need is a little fantasy, your spouse’s arm around your shoulders and escapism. Besides, it was good to see Jeff Probst again, like a long-lost friend; there’s something comforting about that.

Plinky Prompt: Would You Ever Take A Cruise?

  • Cruisin’
  • “The Love Boat”
    DSC01216, Midnight Buffet, Celebrity Cruise Ship Century I have taken a cruise and yes, I would go again. If you are on a cruise it really doesn’t matter what the destination is, it’s the journey there and back that truly counts. I’m not sure I would do it again for a long time. Cruises, known for their gastronomical, orgasmic and plentiful meals are both aphrodisiacs and toxic for people like me. I’m not sure I could resist overeating and gluttony on a cruise (let’s face it: no way) and lately I have been eating healthy foods. That said, I think everyone should go on a cruise once. Being out on the water, is so peaceful, I can’t think of anything better than watching the waves from your deck chair in the sun. Take advantage of the shows that the cruise offers too, they are often very entertaining.
    As long as I am still able to travel and fly, I would like to go to another country and explore it instead of cruising to a destination for a few hours, shopping at a local tourist shop and heading back. Cruises can be magical, the midnight buffets with the ornate ice sculptures are overwhelmingly beautiful; everyone should experience that, at least once.

Plinky Prompt: What Is Your Wasteful HABIT? (Light’s On? Paper Towels?)

Pin Curls & Marcel Waves

Pin Curls & Marcel Waves (Photo credit: Lea Ann Belter Bridal)

  • Wasteful Is Such A Harsh Term…….
  • Who Is The Judge Here?
    Lights on? Use of lots of paper towels? Please. Nothing as simple as those examples. My biggest, guiltiest pleasure which people could call a wasteful habit is my GREATEST delight……..PINTREST. I love it. It’s an on-line collage maker for lack of better terms. (NO, I don’t work there-I wish) I can spend hours on-line mixing and matching photos to my “boards.” It’s a dream come true from a person who used to love making collages–without the messy glue, torn pages from magazines and oak tag. I used to think Facebook was a wasteful habit, now I know it is. I spend much less time on Facebook than I used too. Pintrest (though I still pronounce it PIN-INTEREST in my mind) is like art. It’s my before-bed, relaxation routine. No need for soft music or deep breathing, yoga, meditation or a glass of wine. Grab your computer and start pinning. It’s magical. Dare tell me it’s not…….
    p.s. I’m quite horrified that Plinky doesn’t even have a photo of it from Flickr. Gasp!
  • photo NOT from PINTREST

The Peace Prize

Blue Water

Image by doug88888 via Flickr

In the small, contained river, ringlets of water come to me, float away from me. I feel relaxed, my body is not betraying me now. There is silence in the house, just my breathing, in and out, with an occasional sigh from my contented old dog. I have spent three days and nights in bed, aching, pale, listless; every muscle and joint screaming in pain, tight as twisted steel. Now, there is a little comfort of mind and body intertwined. My music plays in the background, I’m listening to “My Immortal“; by Evanescence.  It was my grief song and at the same time my healing song. I can listen to this song now without sobbing yet nine years ago when my father died, I crawled into a ball and wept every time I heard it. Sometimes time brings just a tiny bit of healing in increments as small as cells.

Many other days I am filled with questions and complaints but today they have been momentarily swept away. I try to keep my shoulders balanced so the tightness and stiffness will stay away. I do not want to be known as Fibromyalgia Girl. I want to be known as a woman with Fibromyalgia and not have the illness define me. Same too, I do not want to be Auto-immune Girl, Hashimoto Thyrioditis’ woman, The Woman with Chronic Pain. I am still the same person inside yet with physical limitations. Please, please, remember me.

When there is a day like today when I can release the labels and just be myself it is like winning a prize; a prize of peace. It is rare but on the days it does happen I am so relaxed I yawn automatically. Treasure this, I tell myself, this moment, this second, as long as it lasts; I know that they are merely moments of reprieve but I am grateful for them.

I am clean and polished, I want to organize, slowly this time, not like the crazy rush I did five days ago, punishing myself with aching limbs and so much stiffness I could barely walk down the stairs. I clutched the hand rail for  support, for guidance, my jaws clenched, my hair pulled into an unforgiving, tight ponytail ; my body was stone and cement and there was no softness, no pull, no elasticity.

I swing my right leg, back and forth, keeping time to silent orchestration.  The world outside is bright and bitter-blue cold. I have no interest in bracing myself and stiffening my body just to go out. I rather walk slowly through the rooms of my tiny, doll-size house and get reacquainted. ‘Hello, pen,  hello, Bridget, the stuffed pink poodle, nice to see you again’. I am trying to breathe in even breaths but the more I try, the more I lose my relaxed rhythm. I decide that that’s okay; I refuse to worry.

Nothing has changed in the outside world so I know today is a gift for the internal me. I can’t make it happen anymore than I can make it stop. I am grateful for the breather, a vacation for an hour or two from body and mind.  The jack hammers are on a break, questions are still unanswered, situations will ultimately resolve themselves. I am grateful for this one moment of peace.

The Joy Of A Lovely Cup Of Tea

It's Teatime!

Image by The Infatuated via Flickr

I’ve always been an avid coffee drinker, super Starbucks strength. I have a cup of strong coffee every morning, without fail, made the same exact way, with Fat Free Half and Half and one packet of Truvia. I’m hooked on coffee in the morning but only drink that one cup a day, which I am sure is equivalent to 3 cups of coffee if made by anyone else.

Why is that you can have a “good” cup of coffee but a “nice” cup of tea?  The only time I used to drink tea was when I had a stomach ache and then I would begrudgingly drag out the tea tin. Stomach ache = peppermint tea. A cold= Lipton tea with lemon juice and sugar or honey. That was it. I never enjoyed it, it was like a prescription for an illness or ache.

Just recently my son received a goody box from England filled with all types of delicious Cadbury chocolate and a small plastic bag with tea. He offered me the te so I decided to try it and made myself a cup. It was strong, earthy, bold. I didn’t use milk, or honey or sugar. I sipped it with delight. After that, I dove in the cupboard and reached all the way in to the back shelf to get the old container of tea which housed my own collection. I was pleased to find that I had an assortment of tea:  Lipton, Peppermint, Lemon, Orange Pekoe, Chai, Chamomile, Green and Black tea, Sleepytime tea and my new personal favorite, Jasmine tea. The scent alone of Jasmine tea is enough to ensure a great, big, smile of relaxation and a deep, soothing breath.

I find coffee drinking a sociable act but a cup of tea for me in the afternoon is quite solitary yet peaceful. It has become my new afternoon ritual. It gives me the opportunity to gather the day’s events together and gives me time to rethink and relax before  making dinner.

I still  use the one of the same mugs I use for coffee  but it doesn’t feel right. Tea requires a more dainty,  pretty cup. I need to buy one, a pristine, flowery tea-cup, perhaps one found in a thrift shop where I can imagine it was owned by a gracious older lady.  I drink tea differently too. While I happily slurp my morning cup of coffee, I sip tea, gently, lovingly and with more respect.

Now I have two things to look forward to each day, one in the morning when I am barely awake and one in the afternoon when I could use a break.  I sniff the scent of the tea container smelling rose, fruit,  nuttiness, a soothing peppermint. It can match my mood, it can comfort my soul.

In this world, that is scary and unpredictable, it’s comforting to have a new routine that gives me pleasure. We all need to make nice things happen for ourselves and appreciate them. I put my troubles aside, I sit down in a comfortable chair and I quietly sip my tea. It’s like sipping a little piece of meditation.