Okay, so my last post was originally intended to be about this thing I’ve started doing, but somehow, it ended up being about anything BUT that, so now I’m gonna share my new hobby with you guys…
Of course, there’s some backstory first!
I have always loved writing. Unless I had to do it as punishment in school, that is. But I’m one of those people who got excited about a new notebook or the sight of a fresh, clean sheet of paper just waiting to be filled with my best handwriting.
I kept tons of journals as a kid. These were nothing more than spiral notebooks, but at one time, I had a stack of them. They were my outlet, the only way to stay sane since I didn’t really have any close friends to talk with about deeply personal things.
I wrote about my deepest hurts, my biggest fears and my fondest hopes. When I was about 15 or 16, my mom decided the only way to figure out what was going on in my life was to read my journals. big, long sigh. Once that happened and she let loose on me with what she thought about what she’d read, I took them all outside and burned them and never really kept any such thing again.
I still wrote when I couldn’t deal with all that was inside my brain anymore, but I never kept anything. I’d shred it up into tiny pieces and throw it in the cafeteria trash where I knew no one would ever go looking for it or decide to pull it out to see what it was.
Maybe that’s the reason for my decades of feeling as if I should write a book. Maybe? I mean, I also feel like there are people who could benefit from reading about what I’ve been through and knowing they’re not alone and they don’t need to give up. I feel like all the hard, painful stuff I’ve endured, whether physical or emotional, should be of some help to someone out there.
But perhaps… it’s also because even though I have learned to talk more about a lot of these things, I still feel the need to do a brain dump and for all the things I never, ever wrote down, I guess I still have some weird “need” to do that.
But anyway…. so my eldest son, Corey, sent me a random picture a couple weeks ago of his work journal. He does things like that just to tell me what he’s up to or to keep in touch. I commented that it was cool and he informed me it was a bullet journal.
I had been reading about those and trying to figure out what the big deal was about them. I am also one of those people who will buy a planner because it’s so neat and I really, really WANT to use a planner, but I never seem to stick with it. At least not anymore.
Ha ha… this was snapped and sent to Corey before the ink was dry!
When the boys were home and we were still schooling, I almost always kept at least some level of planning system, but once they were moved out and I began my slow slide into the deepest of my depression, I just stopped even trying to keep any sort of “memory” system, ya know?
Corey told me about how he’d been using a fountain pen for his personal journal, too, which I immediately found fascinating! Back to how I used to love to write and all that… over the years, with the problems I’ve had with my hands.. the tendon issues, injections and surgery and then finally having the carpal tunnel surgery too, my handwriting hasn’t been anything close to attractive in maybe ten years now!
And really guys, I used to love my handwriting and took pride in having penmanship that people would compliment.
I always loved doing calligraphy and usually have some of those angle-tipped calligraphy markers somewhere in the house. They may be old and dried out, but they’ll be stuck in a nook or cranny somewhere. Nowadays I always have sharpies around somewhere and I use those on a regular basis.
I tend to label just about anything with mine or Tommy’s name and have done that for the kids too. Especially when we all get together and everyone has “Gray” written somewhere on their camp chairs and coolers, etc…. that all look alike, it’s a good idea to personalize your stuff or you’ll lose it quick!
It didn’t take much for me to order myself a fountain pen and so I’ve been really enjoying getting back “in touch” with my handwriting and my fondness of it. I had been Pinterest-ing and reading various articles about journaling and “lettering” so I was more than ready to get my pen. In fact, I’d think of things I wanted to write, but I put it off because I wanted to have my fancy fountain pen first.
HA HA HA!
During all that searching on the web, I found Boho Berry. She’s a calligraphy/lettering guru. Her stuff is gorgeous and she sells it on Etsy and now puts on web courses to teach people how to do what she does. I’m not ready to invest that much money or time into it at this point, but I love looking around her site. I found that she also publishes a writing “challenge” so I have joined in on that.
Notice my hashtag. I haven’t published any of my pages until right now but most people post theirs on Instagram with that hashtag so I’ve been scrolling through those some too. I should have posted mine already. There is no “standard” or any “shaming” that I’ve seen. I mean, there are some obvious beginners in there sharing their pages. Some who are probably brand new to lettering or art altogether. Others are just glorious to behold and make me feel like mine are chicken scratch. Ha. But I just haven’t done it yet.
(I can’t wait to get into this bottle of ink! Once this current cartridge is empty, I am SO going turquoise!!)
One reason was because I knew the lettering would probably improve some once I got back in the swing of it. Got used to making my hand hold the pen correctly and slow down to make the letters nice. I just started having carpal tunnel issues with my right hand last month, so I’m wearing a brace at night in hopes of keeping the horrible numbness from making my hand pretty much useless.
I had surgery on the left hand to relieve carpal tunnel back in 2010 and it did wonders. I had a tendon release done in my right hand about 3 years before that in 2007. Before that, my middle finger was permanently bent at about a 45-degree angle. It was miserable, so I was thrilled to get it fixed. It still doesn’t want to line up with my other fingers, but it’s straight and I can use it without pain or sticking. Hopefully, using the brace on it now will keep me from needing carpal tunnel surgery on the right hand too, at least for many years yet.
This pen is a fine point nib. I have a medium nib and a stub nib (much wider and perfect for calligraphy!) on the way. I have also got a set of penmanship theory and practice books on the way to me! I can’t believe how ridiculously excited I am about what amounted to homework when I was a kid. Ha. Everything old is new again, right?
I researched which journals and what kind of paper is best for fountain pen nibs too, so I hunted down a good new-but-used journal (more about those in a later post) so I won’t feel horrible if I poop out with this endeavor (and no, I don’t plan to) after having spent money on an expensive notebook!
Right now, I’m using a little journal my mother-in-law gave me for Christmas. It’s one more like the kind I usually buy when I can’t control myself and think, “I’ll do something really important with this notebook!” It’s inexpensive and the cover is bowed so it’s hard to write in when you have to use the odd pages. Ha ha… I figure that’s the best thing to practice on anyway, but if this kind of thing keeps up (writing challenge) this little book may be worth more than it cost, ya know?
At least to me. And maybe my grandchildren some day.
Til next time, y’all!
HAPPY NEW YEAR!
…..yes, I know it’s already almost two weeks old. That’s technically still new, right!? I mean, if it was a baby, you’d call it new. If it was a car, you’d certainly still call it new. So just get over it. I’m behind!
You should be used to that by now!
Okay, what’s going on around here. Well, obviously I survived the holidays. I actually had decent blood sugars all through the special foods and gigantic meals. Diabetes: 0 – Geannie: 1! Thank God for that!
We tried to switch things up as far as the timing and place of our various family get-togethers. It was an attempt on my and the girls’ part to try and free up some time so that no one felt rushed from hurrying between in-laws, out-laws, and other family gatherings. It didn’t work as planned, but it was still nice.
Corey and Melissa got to come home and we spent time with them. We spent all of Christmas Eve with all our kids, actually! The other purpose of moving things around was so that “just us” could have a big block of time to be together.
Here’s the thing… for my entire life, our Christmas morning was always a little rushed. Sometimes it was a LOT rushed. When I was little, we went to my mother’s parents, or “Mom and Dad’s” as they were always referred to by me and my sister, on Christmas Eve. My mom had five siblings, four who had children, so all the cousins (except the 7 who lived in Texas) would be there and it was a huge, rowdy gathering. That usually lasted until after 9 pm. Sometimes even later than that, I suppose.
Then on Christmas Day, we were expected to be at Mamaw and Papaw’s, my father’s parents, by 10 am or so. If we got up at 8 or 9, that meant we got very little time to even see what “Santa” had brought, let alone play with any of it. We would have a big meal there with my three cousins who were the children of my dad’s only sibling, a brother 10 years his senior. Obviously, there was a sizable age difference between us cousins that meant we didn’t really “play” together. It was awkward and sort of uncomfortable many times because of all the tension and in-fighting that had been going on between my dad and my uncle since they were children.
THAT is definitely a story for another day, but let me clarify that this “in-fighting”, which is the only word I can think to use for it, was never actually seen. It was always kept confined to verbal jabs, “innocent” jokes made over dinner and things of that nature. You never heard any cross words exactly, but you could certainly feel the seething that everyone tried so hard to ignore.
As a mother of two boys myself, I can understand how Mamaw responded to the whole thing. She was probably thrilled just to have everyone together under one roof but how she and my papaw could ignore so much anger and bitterness is beyond me.
Again…. all that, with the long, involved backstory, will have to wait for another post.
My point in all this is that never was there a time in my life when Christmas Day, at least the morning, wasn’t a rush to be somewhere else on time.
I hate that!
Even after my boys were born, we were still trying to do this routine PLUS the addition of two more gatherings, one for each set of their grandparents. Christmas time was exhausting and I don’t want my kids and possible future grand babies to deal with that.
Since Tommy didn’t have any grandparents living near us, we never had to deal with adding his own traditional big family gathering…actually, they had only had Christmas with either set of his grandparents once or twice maybe, so the whole relationship was completely different. But as my grandparents died off and there was no longer a central place to meet, we first stopped having Christmas Eve at Mom’s. (that’s my grandmother “Mom”, not my mom-Mom) There was plenty of tension in that side of the family too and none of the siblings, at least to my knowledge, even tried to recreate the gathering or carry on that tradition. Each one just formed new traditions with their own immediate family–their children and grandchildren.
On my dad’s side, we continued to gather with Mamaw even after Papaw had passed away until she got too feeble to live on her own and went to the nursing home. With the way my dad and uncle’s relationship was and the fact that we cousins really didn’t even know each other since all our lives, our main interaction was maybe twice a year if a great-uncle I didn’t know at all got a family reunion together that year. Honestly. I see these families that are SO CLOSE and it’s like being on another planet! I think, “Man! I would have loved to have this sort of family!” and that’s why Tommy and I try SO HARD to make sure we have a time, especially at Christmas, when our boys can be together with their wives and us and EVERYONE just relax and enjoy ourselves.
After a few years of ugliness between my sons when they really didn’t even want to be around each other for various reasons I’ll leave un-delved… they now have a good relationship. It’s not as close as when they were kids and were each other’s best friend, but it is SO much better than when they were not getting along.
All of it boiled down to hurt feelings and perceptions and assumptions between them. Seriously! It grieved my heart beyond imagination because I was seeing it become some sort of generational curse right before my eyes. I determined that our family would break that pattern of siblings not loving each other right into adulthood. It happened with my dad and his brother and with me and my sister, in very similar fashion. With my boys, it was more about the differences of opinion between them, not preferential treatment of one or the other by the parents, that seemed to fuel their rift.
But like I said, the boys get along well now and even though I realize sometimes it’s a little forced for my benefit, I am thankful for it. I would much rather have them talking, if through gritted teeth, at least trying to appear polite, than not being together at all. Especially now that Corey has moved to Ohio…spending time with both boys (& their wives, who we consider ours now, too) is extremely important to me and their father.
WOW! This is not at all where I intended to go with this post, y’all. Not even close! But it’s some important stuff and apparently, I needed to get it out. Maybe there’s someone out there who needs to read it. Who knows? I believe that God has a purpose for everything… even my ramblings from time to time.
Hey there, guys! Happy December! (I can’t believe this year is already coming to a close!) #timeflies
Today I wanted to tell you about a tea I made that I am SO hoping will help get rid of the inflammation and pain I’m having in my left pointer finger as well as some (probably?) sympathy pain in the areas surrounding said finger. (ie: my thumb and middle finger get rather stiff when the main culprit is particularly angry as well as just my entire hand aching when I move or try to grip– I’m assuming since it’s nothing near as severe as that one finger, that it’s a sort of sympathetic pain or just the tendency for it to be achy and stiff while not being the main area of inflammation or pain.
If THAT made any sense!
Okay, so I have been a proponent of using ginger for energy and stuff if you remember my post about it here, you’ll know I’ve consumed a lot of ginger over the summer in a cold drink. Today, I found a recipe for a hot ginger drink I’d never seen before.
Honestly, I don’t know why because it’s so stinkin’ simple! Of course, I didn’t make it strictly by the recipe because, well, that’s just how I roll for one, and for two, I wanted to cut some sugar out of it.
After having a cup of the tasty concoction, I have to say, I’ll be cutting the sugar back even more because it’s just too sweet, even for me! And I have a giant sweet tooth, so you know it’s gotta be super-syrupy if I’m complaining! Ha!
Okay, so here it is…. This is simply sliced, fresh ginger, boiling water, lemon (I added that slice after brewing) and brown sugar. Yep, that’s it!
So, the recipe called for a cup of brown sugar AND a tablespoon of honey (or agave) but I skipped the honey just to reduce sugar content. I’ll cut back on the brown sugar next time, too! It was just way too much sugar at a 5:1 ratio. Next time, I’ll try a half cup to five cups of water.
Okay, the instructions are to boil the water and ginger. I sliced up a quarter cup of the fresh ginger I almost always have in the freezer. No particular thickness, but I assume the thinner, the more of the ginger essence you’ll get in your tea. So as soon as the ginger boiled, I took it off the heat and let it steep while I measured the brown sugar. Mind you, people, the recipe I had called for an entire cup of PACKED brown sugar. Woo! It was way too much!
I had gotten my favorite (and only!) glass pitcher from the fridge. We had been keeping filtered water in it when we stopped buying bottled water, but later, I had gotten some glass bottles of kombucha and juice so I recycled the bottles and had been keeping five or six of those filled in the fridge. I am guaranteed to drink more water if it’s kept in the fridge in a bottle. But I emptied the pitcher and warmed the glass and then, like a big idiot, I thought I could put the water from the kettle straight into the pitcher.
Um, nope. It broke almost immediately. Sheesh. Anyway, I quickly poured it all into my huge measuring cup to stir in the sugar and get it dissolved. The recipe said to strain off the ginger, but as you can see from the photo, I didn’t. I wanted to get as much ginger action as I could, even though I knew it was gonna be really spicy!
I added a couple drops each of sweet orange essential oil and cinnamon bark essential oil just because that’s how I am. Ha ha! I have to fiddle with the recipe or it’s not me cooking! I just thought cinnamon and orange would smell so delicious in the ginger brew and it did indeed! And it was quite tasty that way as well!
Then, just before I drank it, I added the slice of lemon (after pulling the seeds out of my slice and making it look weird). As I said, I knew it would be hot, as in spicy hot, and I’m normally not a spicy-hot girl as I will pass on hot peppers every day of the week and twice on Sunday! But somehow, ginger heat isn’t the same, so I did get a nice slight burn down my throat as I drank my little toddy.
I am hoping this stuff will help keep my finger from at least getting worse but hopefully, it will make it feel better. The pain is getting pretty intense and unless the ginger really makes it a lot better, I’ll probably go see a rheumatologist as soon as I can.
Until then, I’m going to give this ginger tea a good run. I ended up adding another couple cups of water to the mix that was still in the kettle, adding a new slice of lemon to it as well and am waiting to see if it cuts down the syrupy-ness enough.
Let me know if you try this and if you’ve had luck using ginger as an anti-inflammatory!
So I had big plans for posting about this. I mean, it IS kinda a big deal but probably NOT as big as deal as I made of it.
See, the thing is that I had done something the previous year that was unusual for me. I set a goal. I probably set goals more often than I realize, but this one was an intentional one. And also one that I did not meet.
I was bummed, people. You will see why when I tell you what it was. I didn’t tell too many people about it because it was almost traumatic to even set the goal and it was ultra-personal to me. And also, I was so afraid I wouldn’t be able to get it done.
That might be a sure sign that my goal wasn’t all that practical or attainable. Hey, I’m new at this! Cut me some slack.
So my goal, which I set on my 49th birthday, was to lose about 60 pounds before my 50th. I probably did lose 10 or 12, but by the time my birthday got here, I was pretty much exactly the same weight I’d been the year before.
siiiigh I was so disappointed and almost set up to give myself a good bashing, but then I realized that I should look at my positives. First of all, I’ve had t1d for over 42 years!! Making it to 50 was nothing to sneeze at! Some folks don’t get that privilege with this nasty disease. Secondly, at least I had not put on more weight. That was definitely a plus.
I also realized that was not my one and only chance to set or meet a goal, so I’ve reset and decided that becoming a 51-year-old who is less of a person than her 50-year-old self was not a bad goal to have either.
Lord willing, I’ll find a way to stick to this. My biggest obstacle is getting consistent exercise. I don’t think I get those dorphine things like everyone else does. I normally do NOT feel great after exercise. I’m not sure that I trust folks who are euphoric about how they feel after exertion! I mean, c’MON! It can’t be that great! I usually feel like I’m gonna die! How come I don’t feel all wonderful and powerful after a workout?? HuH?? That just is NOT fair!
Anyhow, after Tommy became too busy to continue riding our bikes and I haven’t figured out how to get in a good ride by myself without going on the deserted back road past our house, I just quit riding. I did get pretty depressed about it and moped for awhile. I realize this and admit it. Sorry, but it’s how I cope most of the time!
After all that, I have just had a lot of issues with fatigue and in the past several months, I have been trying to get to the point where I’m not just constantly sleepy. For awhile there, I was sleeping most of the day and all night too. Yes, and still feeling exhausted! It was nuts!
Anyway, that is quite a bit better now, but it came after about three weeks of battling high blood sugars (see THIS POST) I’d spent most of those weeks feeling nauseated and exhausted and angry because it seemed no matter what I did, I couldn’t get my sugars to level out. I’d treat, corrected, treat and correct without any result at all until four or five hours later, once my level HAD gotten to at least a high normal, it would suddenly nosedive and I’d end up having to treat a low blood sugar! SO ANNOYING!!
But after that, with Thanksgiving at the doorstep, I was blessed to get several days of unheard-of energy and I got all the things done that I absolutely had to for the weekend of meals and our city kids coming home for a few days before we left with them immediately after our Friday “Thanksgiving” with my family. We went up to Ohio for a few days to help them move into a brand new house they’re renting. We were so exhausted and I KNOW poor Tommy was wrecked— he worked so hard, as did the rest of the guys carrying in all that heavy stuff then lugging it up the narrow staircase!
We finally got it all in and the apartment emptied and all in one day, too. We spent the rest of Saturday trying to arrange furniture and making beds, etc. It’s gonna be really nice for them to have so much more room, a backyard solely for Timber to play in and being so close to Melissa’s family. (an uncle and a cousin are right next door!) The area is extremely nice too. I’m so happy for them and hope they love it there.
Another awesome thing that happened is that I FINALLY got a new laptop!! I wasn’t expecting to be doing that at all, but Sunday afternoon we stopped in BestBuy to just check on what they had in open-box stock of Apple computers. They didn’t have anything I was looking for in open-box but they had a pretty good deal going on the laptops, so after some serious debate, I ended up going with a MacBook Air!
So far, I’m loving it. It hasn’t been too hard to adjust to from my old (ancient) Windows laptop since I’ve been using iPhones for about 10 years now. I can’t get over how small it is but still pretty heavy so in my mind, that means it’s durable. Ha ha!! I got the i7 processor which is more than I really needed but it came with 256mg of drive space, so that was my big plus. I opted for that space over a Retina display. My old eyes can’t really tell that huge a difference without getting right up to the screen so this works better for me.
Now I have NO EXCUSE not to get my tail busy on that book! ACK!
Today though, after a little bit of computer exploring, I’m off to get this house straightened up so I can drag out Christmas decorations! Both my girls (daughters-in-law) have their trees up already, so I’m lagging sorely behind. Ha. If not for going to Cincinnati over Thanksgiving weekend to move Corey and Mel, we’d have done it then like we usually do. But it’s all good. I’ll get it done eventually and Taylor has offered to come help so all I need to do is just get some stuff out of the house (donations) and clean up the floors so we can get with it!
Just for the record, my Christmas decor is not going to anything even slightly resembling a decorator’s dream or some HGTV show like this:
I sincerely hope all you guys had a great Thanksgiving holiday with your families and are gearing up for a beautiful season celebrating Christ’s birth!
I’m referring to the Bronchomonster from last year, folks.
Here’s the thing, I had this WHOLE long post written up (remember guys, it takes me a ton longer to get a post published these days for some reason) I mean, a full-on, several-hundred words post about how great it was to have NOT had to deal with this bronchial infection stuff the way I did last year. And you can just guess what happened after that, right?
Yep. I’m sitting here, sucking the nebulizer as I type. ARGH! Seriously, folks, I AM thankful that I haven’t had it all this time, since last year, it started in August and did NOT leave until mid-November!!!
I think it probably got a foothold in when I went to have out-patient surgery last week. GAH! What’s that about? Oh, well…you know since we knocked out out-of-pocket limit in the head back in March, Tommy and I have been getting all sorts of tests done and with a bout of weird “lady things” going on, my general physician wanted to send me for a consult with the gyno. Yay.
They’d already done a really painful ultrasound earlier this year looking for something else. I had to have that REDONE so there was that. Then I had to have this tissue sample taken and THAT was simply horrific.
DISCLAIMER: for the dudes who may be lurking out there, this is going to get really “woman-y” really fast, so brace yourselves for lots of uncomfortable info about what we ladies have to go through to keep our honey-pots healthy. There.
So they tried to do this tissue sample thing in the office. It was supposed to be a simple procedure, right? No. Not for Geannie. Nothing is ever really simple with me.
They had to change the speculum THREE TIMES! That thing is always painful to me since I’m made so weird in there anyway, but I had to lay there with one ill-fitting contraption in me while the nurse went to get another one, and then that one didn’t work either. It was MISERABLE! Then they started with the actual tissue retrieval. Um, NO!
What they told me was it would be a small straw-like thing that the doc would then “spin” around in there to grab a bit of tissue. Apparently, the first one collapsed on itself…I dunno, I guess it was defective and I’m thinking to myself it’s like when you get a straw with a hole in it and can’t drink your soda through it? Who knows. But yeah, then I had to wait while the nurse left AGAIN to get another one of those too. I was bawling by the time they were done.
Both the female doc and the nurse were apologizing profusely, but that didn’t make it any better. It was awful!
Early the next week, I get a call from the nurse telling me they hadn’t even gotten a tissue sample, just some “mucous” and I was waiting for her to say they had to do it again to which I was going to reply, “OH NO YOU DON’T! I don’t care if it all rots and falls out, I am NOT going through THAT again!!” But what she said was they wanted to do this as an out-patient surgery. The plan was a hysteroscopy with D & C. They had spotted a polyp which needed to be removed and biopsied plus I think they planned to just sorta clean all the thickened tissue out if needed. So I’m like, “General anesthesia?” which the nurse confirmed, so I said, “Okay, let’s do it.”
So anyway, I had that done last Tuesday and it was a breeze comparatively. Other than some minor cramping and the sensation that I’d been scrubbed out down there with a brillo pad, there wasn’t a ton of pain. All the rawness was gone and I was feeling pretty much back to normal the next day…except for a sore throat. The nurse told me that was from the tube they’d put down my throat during surgery.
But I knew it wasn’t.
I started doubling up on my elderberry syrup and vitamin C, but apparently, it was too little, too late. By yesterday evening, I knew I was in for a bout of the Bronchomonster.
I think probably having an infection (found out from the pre-op tests I had a couple bacterial infections brewing) my immune system was weakened just enough to let this awful broncho-stuff take hold. Oh, that and it just turned pretty cold around home, too. Not that the cold weather gives you a cold, of course, but it sure didn’t do my throat any favors on top of all the other stuff.
Thank God, though, the throat isn’t a big issue anymore. It’s this coughing, but–again, thank God– it’s nothing near like last year and hopefully, I’m getting on top of it soon enough to clear it up without any steroids or antibiotics. My good friend echinacea is going into the teapot today and I’ll be adding some other germ-fighting, immune boosting home remedies to the roster. Ha. If only it were that simple, huh?
I’m not even going to bore you with what the surgery/anesthesia/sick-getting has done to my blood sugars. I am throwing insulin at them by the vial and still, they’re staying up around 300, which adds to yuckiness. I’ve never had this much trouble with my sugar going high when I’m sick before. Usually, only steroids do anything close to this. UGH!
Okay, so there you go, folks. You’re pretty much up to date on the state of affairs in my world right now. I hope all of you are staying well and healthy! If you have any other good self-help, home remedies for me, please leave a comment! I’m open to ANYthing that’ll get me well ASAP!
Hey everyone! I hope you all got to see the eclipse on Monday. I didn’t have any viewing tools and planned to just stay indoors and watch it online, but Tommy came home so I could take a gander at it through his welder’s lens. I also saw a couple of amazing photos that he and his work-mate snapped.
I did go outside just to experience the atmospheric change from the eclipse. We weren’t in the path of 100% totality, but we weren’t far from it, either. Kentucky got some awesome publicity and tourist income since Hopkinsville was directly in the center of the shadow’s path.
I watched the Facebook live feed from a guy in Nicholasville who got some amazing footage.
As I stood outside watching the shadow slowly overtake the sun’s rays, it became an eerie, dusky “texture” outside. Not nearly as dark as I had imagined it might become, but definitely odd since the sky was relatively clear. The temperature did drop a few degrees, but the stickiness from the humidity didn’t completely dissipate, so it really felt strange out there.
Then there was the way the birds stopped singing for several
minutes. You couldn’t hear anything at all except the crickets and cicadas chirping away. If you ask me, that insane chirping in the middle of the day seemed so loud and out of place it was enough to make it seem much more creepy!
I loved watching the satellite image of the shadow as it passed across the country and I took time to look at some of the most stunning photos from coast to coast.
The entire time I was keeping up with that Facebook footage though, there were a TON of people commenting about how they couldn’t see anything, when was it going to happen and even that the whole thing was fake because they “didn’t see” anything happening.
Seriously. ** insert thoroughly disgusted face here ** Come on, people!! I am perfectly fine with you being ignorant about this, but please don’t advertise it all over Facebook?!? It’s not like people don’t normally give anyone from Kentucky enough stereotypical grief for being dumb already, right? ** huff **
I’ll move on to refrain from going on a rant about how some folks just love to argue and flaunt their willful ignorance in the internet’s face for all to see. ARGH!!
For your entertainment, here is what Silvey Fluffy Muffin thought of the eclipse…
granted, her vantage point wasn’t the greatest, but she was content to sit inside and wonder what in the heck I was doing out there.
Okay, so besides my Eclipse Day, I got a new haircut finally! The guy who had been cutting my hair must have just gotten completely too busy to fool with the likes of this old lady. HA HA!! I’m poking fun at him now since he was one of the kids who was in the youth group at our last church years ago.
I ended up going quite a distance out of my way to see a lady from church at her salon. For clarity’s sake, my “quite a distance” is about 20 miles. Honestly, I hate going to people I don’t know at all to have my hair cut. I haven’t done that in eons… like since the boys were little! The last time I did that, I told the lady I didn’t want any weird angles and I did not want it cut close to my neck. I was going way out on a limb to trust her to cut my hair in a short style and what did she do?
The EXACT thing I told her NOT TO DO!! I don’t know if she didn’t understand what I was saying or not, but believe me, I was EXTREMELY clear about it! I ended up with a cut that was one length on one side and shorter on the other and shorn close to my neck like a man’s cut!!!
I was livid and told my mom and sister since they’d both recommended this woman, that I would never trust them again for a stylist!!
** ahem ** So… that’s why I am so particular about who I let cut my hair! When I had that last horrid cut done, it was the middle of July and hot as blue blazes. My hair was thick and long and it was burning me alive! This was just before I got diagnosed with my thyroid condition, so my thyroid was churning out hormone in huge amounts which made for an extremely hot and sweaty Geannie round the clock! Otherwise, I would have never let a total stranger cut my hair short.
Yesterday though, I did get my hair cut shorter. About as short as I’ve ever had it cut since The Nightmare Cut of 1993. HA HA HA!! This is a bit thinner than I was expecting, but it will definitely make for flippy ends like I wanted. I just hope I can get it to have a little more volume once I wash and style it myself. Otherwise, though, I really like it. She did almost the entire cut with a razor, which was new for me. Most of the time all they ever do is razor cut a bit on the very ends after doing the rest with scissors. *** Photos MIGHT be posted later. Don’t hold your breath, though. 😉
Something else I did today was work on my Bible reading plan. Not that I’m writing one, I just mean trying to catch up on the one I’ve been working on this entire year. I was really, REALLY bad and got over a month behind on it! (hey, I TOLD you I was bad, okay?!—I wasn’t kidding!) As of today, I’m about 25 days behind.
I’m using the F260 reading plan from YouVersion, in case you’re interested. It takes you through the Old Testament, Psalm, and Proverbs in a year. Well, y’know…in a year if you don’t get behind. ** blush **
Today the reading was mostly in Ezekial, Jeremiah, and 2nd Kings. I never liked reading those Scripture that talk about how wicked the kings and people became during that time period. As you read through, it’s like “and this king did evil in the sight of the Lord, and this king did what was right in the sight of the Lord, then this king did evil in the sight of the Lord and this king did evil in the sight of the Lord as his father did…” Sometimes I’m like how in the world did you people not recognize the pattern?? How could you not see that following God’s word was more beneficial? How did the sons of the righteous kings turn out to be some of the most wicked? And how did the sons who became righteous kings do so when they had such evil fathers?
Then I look around at the world today and I can see very similar things happening. It just looks a whole lot plainer and is more easily recognized when it’s all written out and displayed in such concise little paragraphs.
I wonder if any of those men, those rulers from that day, can see now. Can they see the words of the Bible, how they have been memorialized in God’s word and pinpoint where they failed? Can they see the exact moment when they went off the path or when they made the decision to leave a wicked trajectory and change course from the way their evil fathers had lived?
How awful would it be to see our worst moments forever preserved that way? ** shudder ** No thank you. I’d rather not.
God’s plan is His plan and men cannot thwart it no matter how hard they try. Just the way Herrod and the Sanhedrin were used in an attempt to keep Jesus from doing the work God had set out for Him to do.
What thoughts go through your mind when you read things like this in the Old Testament? Do you have similar questions or are there other thoughts that spring up? Please share!
It’s been crazy around here since my last post. It took a lot out of me to write about losing my sweet puppy-boy, Max. But the point of that post was that God can heal any disease, any injury, even a broken heart.
I also told you that I needed to find another little fuzzy to fill the void left by Max’s death. Tommy and I had been looking at all sorts of rescue and adoption sites for Shih-Tzu mixes and at our local shelters. We found a possible one in Georgia and we would have gone through with it had it worked out. As it was, the adoption people have not yet contacted us about our application and God orchestrated a different plan in the meantime.
A local friend of ours messaged me one night a few days after my post was published. She said she had a little Shih-Tzu mix puppy that she needed to rehome. This friend has seven children, the five youngest she is still homeschooling! She said she’d thought the kids would have more time to spend with the puppy, but their busy schedules had not afforded it much time. She loved the pup but could see it was suffering from neglect (emotionally, that is) when it had to beg for attention from the kids. As you can imagine, all those children, plus homeschooling, each child with extra-curricular activities and a husband with his own business is a lot for a mom and it came to the point she realized she needed to find a new home for their little pup.
She had already asked a few other friends since she didn’t want to put it in a rescue situation, so she hesitantly messaged me that night to see if Tommy and I might possibly consider taking her.
We went to pick her up the next morning. (ha!) It just seemed like another situation God had worked out in advance. She is young enough, like we wanted and now we would know about her background instead of unsure of how she was treated. We know she was well-loved and taken care of.
And now we have little Silvey, an 18-month old Shi-poo (Shih-Tzu/Poodle mix). The past week has been an adventure to be sure, but Silvey (short for Silverbells Piddlepie -haha!) settled in amazingly well. We even took her to Knoxville with us the day after we brought her home and she did excellent.
She’s so different from Max, it made me tear up a bit as we drove down the highway, thinking about how he used to cuddle up in my lap but Silvey wanted to sit independently on the center console. The next couple of days, though, she became more cuddly as she adjusted to feeling at home with us. She gets along great with Samson, our chocolate lab, and seems each day to feel more and more at ease.
I have not posted anything on Facebook or Instagram about having her to avoid having my friend’s younger kids see it and feel sad about having to part with her, but soon, I’ll share some photos on there. Right now, she is needing to visit the groomer and so I will wait until she’s got a new hairdo to post pix.
For now, I’m trying desperately to get a video up here for you guys of Silvey fussing at the bad doggie in the mirror of our bedroom. She’s been mad at that dog all day long and the weirdest thing is, she has seen that mirror before today. Goofball! Ha ha ha!
In other news, today is Tommy’s fifty-first birthday. I’m gonna attempt to make a gluten-free chocolate cake for him. With all his allergies, it’s so hard to find things he can eat. If we find a restaurant where he can eat, there are never any wheat-free desserts on the menu, so I’m fixing this cake for him. I sure hope it comes out right!
Our Ohio kids (ha!) are coming down tomorrow evening to be here for Tommy’s birthday and we have a girls’ breakfast planned for Saturday morning since the boys are squeezing in a bachelor-party/camping-trip thing. I’m looking forward to that!
Beyond that, life is pretty normal. I’m still struggling with low energy despite the fact that I’m taking B-12 injections at home each week. We haven’t got to ride bikes this week due to rain and a severely neglected yard (we had to rake the entire thing the grass was so tall and thick!). Maybe we will get to go this weekend, though. I start missing it so much if we don’t get to go.
I need to get back to editing what I have written of my book. Editor Elaine has informed me that she is almost ready to send chapter two to me with suggestions and a rewrite along with her notes on my rewrite of chapter one! I can’t believe how productive it makes me feel to have her notes to work with! I am SO thankful she is helping me like this!
I’m off to get you a video… You’ll see why I needed this little stinker…she makes me laugh the way Max did but at an entirely different personality.
The heart is never too broken. Our hearts are indomitable, always rebounding, when God makes the repairs.
Thanks for hanging with me!
HERE YOU GO!! VIDEOS!
Ah, broken hearts. They’re the stuff great songs are made of, am I right? And if you have one, they are like the longest, most painful night of your life.
Unless you’re like, 4 days old, you’ve had a broken heart. At least once! At this point in my life, I’ve had many-a broken heart. Like they say, time usually heals them but some take more time than others.
I don’t spend a lot of my time worrying about having my heart broken from things like a death in the family or a betrayal by someone dear to me. If you know me, you know I’m not really a “worrier”. I really do try to leave it all in God’s hands and be as content as I can be with His plan and His determined outcome.
However, in the past couple of years, I have just occasionally and quite randomly found myself mulling over how I would handle it if something tragic happened to one of my children.
I don’t know why, really. Well, yeah, I do. It’s the enemy trying to steal my joy and keep me from concentrating on God and what He wants me to do. Then there are the times I fret over the fact that it worries me being some sort of forewarning. I’m telling you, I can drive myself crazy with it if I don’t stop it quickly.
I have several dear friends who have lost their children from illness or accidents. Some of them just amaze me with how they have handled it. They have a peace and a joy that I can’t quite comprehend. Others of them tend to dwell and hold their sadness close, even after a decade or more.
I’m just not sure how I would do. I want to think I could allow God to take it and I could find peace again, but somehow I can never feel confident about that. It’s like I wonder how I’d do with a test such as that. Like Job losing ALL his children in one fell swoop on top of all his bodily torments and other losses. I just marvel at how amazingly God can sustain our frail human hearts.
So anyway, the reason I am pondering all this stuff is that I had a terrible heartbreak this weekend. We lost my sweet little puppy, Max. I am so heartbroken to lose him. Tommy came in Saturday with a look on his face that told me it couldn’t be good news.
He knelt down beside me and said, “Honey, Maxie’s been in an accident,” and that’s all it took. I said, “Is he gone?” and when Tommy confirmed, I just dissolved into tears. I’ve had pets all my life. Mostly dogs, but sometimes cats when I was little. We’ve lost countless dogs over the years to either accident or illness and I have always been upset, but never like this. Of course, growing up, we never had inside dogs and somehow, when they don’t live right “in amongst” you, you don’t get quite as close to them. We had an inside dog before Max, but he was never as attentive or as “stuck” to me as Max.
We got our sweet Max, a little “Malti-Tzu” (Maltese/Shih Tzu mix) when I was at one of the most dark, depressed states of my life. I needed him and he needed me. We got him from a lady who had taken him even though she knew pets weren’t allowed in her apartment. She kept him crated all day while she was at work, so over 8 hours. He was a mess, all long and matted. He was afraid of men because, as she told us, her boyfriend didn’t like Max and would yell at him (and who knows what else).
It took awhile, but soon he was not just my baby, but Tommy’s buddy as well. He loved people, most people, well…after he had barked at them a bit and decided they were okay. We have a few friends he never took to though and I’m pretty sure it was because they had sort-of loud or a different tone to their voices. Otherwise, though, he made friends pretty quickly. He was very protective of me which at first, I think was a behavior held over from the yelling boyfriend of his previous owner. The first couple of times Tommy moved to hug me, Max would leap between us and like I said, the first couple of times he made a faint growl at him, but soon as I assured Max that it was okay, he stopped making any aggressive sounds. Soon, it was done just because he was a nosy little stinker. He would wedge his way between us with this “Whatcha’ll doin’?” look on his face. He had a huge personality.
Max loved to play and was really a joy to watch. He would skip and run and sling his “baby” or ball around then run to catch it. He loved to drop his balls into containers then act like he was on Mission Impossible trying to get them back out. He’d drop them in Tommy’s boots, the laundry basket, my purse… you name it. It was such fun to watch him play.
Max also loved to cuddle and sleep. Bless his heart, when I had a bad day and could barely keep my head up, he was just as game to lay in bed all day with me as he was to be up following me all over the house. I think this is the main reason I’m so devastated over losing him. I’ve never had a dog that loved me so good. He just wanted to be with me, no matter what. He was entirely too cute for my own good.
Even though he wasn’t one of those “yappy” dogs that barked all the time, the house seems so quiet without him. I think it’s because the sound of him jumping off the couch or bed to run see who was outside or his little feet clippety-clipping behind him on the tile have become comforting sounds and I miss them terribly today.
Max had a huge sense of adventure and was, like I said, game for anything Tommy and I were up for. He loved to travel and was the best car-riding buddy ever. We took him with us along on more road trips than we can remember. He loved to ride and would get so excited about a car ride, but soon as we were on the interstate, he’d be out like a light. The interstate was like valium to him!
Max went camping with us, he’s gone to various cookouts, hikes and bon fires. Fishing at the pond was a favorite. He even went for a ride on the four-wheeler, but that wasn’t his favorite since we had to rig him a “seat” (aka: milk crate with harness) because he would NOT be still and let me hold him! He wanted to jump off and chase every critter we saw.
He even rode with Tommy on his bike once. I’m not sure he liked it a whole lot, but he liked being with us. He was better satisfied as long as he could see me riding behind, but if I got in front, he would have a fit to climb over Tommy’s shoulder. We wanted to try another camping trip like this with the bikes and try him in a basket, but we never got the chance. Max was willing to try just about anything we did as long as he could go with us.
Max was a peculiar little poot, too. He had this thing, maybe all little dogs are this way, but if any dogs were around who were bigger than him, he HAD to make it clear that HE was the boss. Our old chocolate lab, Samson, was a prime example and he probably
made Max worse because of his own super-gentle temperment. Sam was always the gentleman, to a fault! He was never the least bit aggressive unless you threatened his food. And sometimes, he’d even share that with Max. He never took the ball away from him, love his heart. He always let Max get the ball. Maybe that’s because Max would start growling and snarling like a rabid skunk if some one threatened whatever he considered his. And of course, ALL THINGS were his. Humans and toys alike. And if another big dog came around, even one of our boys’ dogs (Corey has an Austrailian Shepherd and Casey has a Golden Retriever) if any of the big dogs was aggressive with the other, he would be all over them as if to say, “HEY! Shut it down! I’M the only one who gets to do that!” It was really hilarious and I’d have to explain to other people that he wasn’t really being mean, it was just his way. Bahaha. Max definitely had a unique way of socializing. But he still had lots of buddies. Seriously, even the dogs couldn’t help but love him.
Max was the sweetest, craziest, noisiest little pup ever and I am really heartbroken right now. After crying my eyes out for almost two hours solid, I’ve collected myself and can ponder why. I don’t know why this had to happen at this point in time. I don’t want to dwell on how it happened
other than to say it was an accident and happened right in our driveway. Max was, as anyone who’s been here knows, a horrible one to run up to and around and under vehicles as they approached or left the house. We tried every way we knew to break him of it, but he would not be stopped. The only way was to forcibly hold him or just take him inside. It never failed that I would no sooner let him out in the yard to play than someone would pull into the driveway and I’d have to go out and try to catch Max or watch with my stomach clenched as the person tried to slowly bring the car or truck closer. Whether it was a delivery truck or someone who had been here a million times, he would go at it barking like mad and running as close to the tires as possible, so honestly, I wouldn’t blame the person responsible at all. This person has no clue that they even ran over Max. Another reason I don’t want to dwell on it is that I could end up getting mad or even more upset. I know this person was distracted with trying to hurry home even though they know how Max is and have had to deal with his antics a million other times. For whatever reason, God saw fit to let this happen and I am trying to cope.
Which brings me back to my first thoughts up there of fretting about how I’d deal with it if something awful happened to one of my boys. I am wondering if God isn’t letting me know that this is not the worst thing ever. He knows that I would have been in much worse shape if I was dealing with losing one of them. Why I need to realize that now is something I don’t want to ponder long. I think it’s become more of a thing with me ever since Corey moved to Ohio. I felt like I was literally losing him. I realize now that was silly since we actually talk to him and Melissa and even see them more often than we did when they lived a stone’s throw away! The moving and now this has all taught me never to take anything or any one for granted as I am so apt to do.
I’m so thankful that God put Max in my path (I found him on Craig’s List!) when He did because we really did need each other. I hope he felt every bit as loved as he was. Especially after spending part or maybe all his life feeling like he wasn’t wanted. I loved that little fella SO good and through him and my family and others, God brought me out of the deepest pit to recover my joy.
It feels terribly lonely today though and I have cried through sorting for pictures to share with you and have realized I don’t want to feel like this. No pup can ever replace my little Max, but I need the companionship of a silly, funny pup. I have been busying my mind in the search for another Malti-shuh or whatever they are calling the Maltese/Shih Tzu mix. The characteristics of both breeds are just what I need, I believe. But it’s hard to find them except from expensive breeders, which we can’t afford or people who are no longer able to care for aged dogs, which I don’t need. I need a younger dog that can be trained. Corey believes we can train a dog to help alert us to low blood sugars which would be extremely helpful! I know this breed isn’t the top recommendation for this sort of training, but right now I’m determined that I need a little one that will be a cuddly furbaby, too. Even if they can’t be FULLY trained to alert, I know that dogs have the natural ability to sense things like that and it would still be helpful even if they don’t know proper alert actions. My mind may change but as it stands right now, it doesn’t much matter. We can’t afford to just purchase a pup from a breeder and besides, I’d rather not do that anyway. I’d like to be able to get a younger dog from an owner who has discovered they can’t care for the dog or maybe has had an unexpected litter of pups. I’d like to find one less than a year old and even a straight-Shih Tzu, Maltese or even a Yorkie would be great. (just throwing this out there in case anyone knows somebody who knows somebody… heh)
My experience with Max tells me that for the most part, the combination of Shih Tzu and Maltese traits are just wonderful other than the drive to chase, which is high in most small dogs already.
I’m thankful for the time I had Max. He was like medicine for my hurting heart. I know God has another dose of good medicine out there somewhere and at the right time, he or she will cross my path. In the meantime, I’m also thankful for my family who has been so sweet in understanding my heartache and sweet Tommy, who I know is also heartbroken but has been so strong for me the past couple days. I am blessed and highly favored.
Go and tell your family and friends you love them and hug your pet. Any and all of them are blessings to be treasured! Always remember there is peace among the pieces of your broken heart if you just let God handle the reassembly.
You may or may not know this about me, but I used to be a horrifically passive-aggressive person. In my defense, my parents weren’t good communicators so this sort of thing was all I knew. They weren’t always what you could call passive-aggressive necessarily, but they did not communicate what they wanted, expected or thought very well at all. So I guess my only response was to learn to communicate in this way.
“I lived like that for YEARS and never realized what a mess I was.”
I say “I used to be” because, trust me… you can ask the Hubby, I was a WHOLE LOT worse in the past. But even though my passive-aggressive tendencies are extremely reduced these days, there are times when I reactively resort to coping with things this way. I guess you could call me a ‘recovering passive-aggressive’.
I began researching today about how to deal with passive-aggressive behavior. Once I was aware of myself acting this way and took steps to stop, I became keenly aware of others who were severely passive-aggressive. And it is other passive-aggressive people who seem to instinctively pull that same PA reaction out of me.
Let me clarify here by saying that I did NOT realize this is what I was doing all those years. I knew what it meant, but I didn’t really know the term or even when I heard someone use it, it never registered that, in fact, I was a passive-aggressive person. I was complete blind to it. Now that I make an effort to NOT live passive-aggressively, my life is much more peaceful. At least my “inner voice” isn’t forever playing this running monolog of the latest conversation with someone else or some upcoming confrontation I was going to or WISHED I could have.
So far, I haven’t read anything about this trait so maybe I’m the only one who did it, but I suspect that’s not at all the case. I think it’s probably the main “thing” with any PA person. I could spend entire days replaying some conversation, changing my responses or creating new scenarios. I would work up these awesome, very dramatic confrontations I wanted to have with people who had hurt me or wronged me. In my scenarios, I would passionately make my points, I’d ‘tell it like it is’ and give them a piece of my mind. I’d tell them how horribly they treated me or how deeply they had wounded me and they’d always see the error of their ways and spend the rest of eternity trying to right their wrong.
I’m telling you, folks, having a passive-aggressive tendency will make your mind sick.
I lived like that for YEARS and never realized what a mess I was. I mean, sure, I also dealt with depression and diabetes too and recognized those “ailments”, but I just never realized how terribly passive-aggressive I was as just a routine…an everyday occurrence.
“…it never registered that, in fact, I was a passive-aggressive person. I was completely blind to it.
Now, after a few years of coping with recognizing and having others around me, some new and some not-so-new, who are very passive-aggressive, for some reason it has finally occurred to me to research how to deal with them! I don’t know why I never thought about it before. I guess this is all some sort of self-therapy and I’m just giving a name to the behavior I displayed for most of my life. I wish I had known this stuff before now, but as it stands, I guess there’s a reason for it all. If you have known me for eons and tried to point out my ugly temperment, I’m sorry. At the time, I just could not see it and I probably responded poorly. ** * sigh * **
Right now though, I’m desperate to make sure my mind operates in a completely NON-passive-aggressive way so I can get through to others who are seriously PA and tend to direct most of that inner bitterness at me.
Maybe that’s because they know I myself have been and can still react passive-aggressively? Is it a thing that PA’s try to push other PA-people’s buttons? Hmmm… I wonder… but I bet it is.
“I’m telling you, having a passive-aggressive tendency will make your mind sick.”
I may be wrong, y’know… because for reals, I’m not a psychology major nor do I play one on TV, but in this case, I realize that I behaved this way because of deep-seated hurts and rejection during my childhood. Coupled with the depression, I think any sort of dismissive attitude towards me had to make things worse. Just to be told your thoughts are not valid is such an awful feeling. When it’s repeated in a child’s life, I guess you end up with someone like me. Someone who feels worthless, guilty, useless and bitter. The only way I knew to deal with people was in a very non-direct way. That’s why I am a MUCH better communicator in writing than I am in person, face-to-face.
I’m learning to stop that self-destructive, harmful-to-others, sick-mind way of living, finally. It’s a slow process, but maybe, hopefully, Lord willing, I am at a place where I can now destruct difficult relationships with other who are way too much like me… like the me I used to be. But I’m not sure how to deal with it when it feels like all the manipulation and aggressive non-actions are just to be mean. When I was at my worst, I don’t think I ever just set out to see if I could manipulate someone for the heck of it. It was never just to be mean. But if they hurt me, boy, I could be one of the craftiest, nastiest passive-aggressives you ever met. That was a sort-of justification to me: you deserved it if you’d been mean to me. And not knowing any other way to communicate with people, I reacted in kind! In that way, I feel like I was different than some PA-people are. From where I sit, it seems some people just want to manipulate me for fun. Just because they’re bored maybe? I don’t know, and like I said, I don’t remember ever being passive-aggressive toward someone just to be mean, just because I didn’t like the way they looked or because I wanted all the attention. I ** * think * ** I was only that way towards someone who hurt or attacked me. It was my defense when someone was just ugly to me. I’ve never been a mean-spirited person however maybe my poor husband would tell you otherwise. I don’t think I’ll ask him at this time. Maybe one day, when I’m more confident that I’ve overcome that way of responding. ** * ha * **
Again, I’m no psychology major by any means, so I’m not sure if this is even possible … to have different motivations for PA actions? Is that a thing? Or does this behavior always stem from insecurity and low self-esteem no matter if the person is mean-spirited about it or just defensively reactive? Are some people just really mean without having some past damage to their self-worth or psyche?
Hmmm… so interesting.
ANYway, I’m trying to educate myself here. I know there’s a lot of scripture that can be applied here, but I am too tired to look it up and paste it here. Just don’t think I’m looking only at the psychology of it and not the spiritual side of having this kind of personality. Believe me, I certainly realize living with a PA attitude is NOT at all Christ-like. That’s just one more reason I’m so thankful God gives big grace! I have needed and STILL need tons of it! I can now see how very sinful my attitude and actions were when I lived my life from a place of hurt and bitterness.
I just hope I can learn to leave that all behind, even in snap-reactive situations when it’s more likely to slip out again. I want to live the way Jesus wants me to. I want to be able to help other people to either overcome passive-aggression in themselves or help PAs around them. I know we can be difficult people to love, hard to interact with and I want to help people see how destructive and reversible it is. Jesus can heal the diseases of bitterness and manipulation and passive-aggressive mindsets.
Lord, let it be so!
PS: I realize being vague, like leaving out any identification, is a tactic of a passive-aggressive person however, in this case, I definitely do not want to identify anyone since any of the several people this could apply to could possibly find this post. I also don’t want to identify anyone, even people I am not “analyzing” or whatever just because that would be rude.
Remember, I have also “analyzed” myself in this post. I am trying to make myself better and be able to help anyone else who may need it to overcome what I am overcoming.
For God’s glory!
Hey y’all. I finally bit the bullet. Um… it just occurred to me that maybe I say things like that a little too often here and you are probably expecting some big revelation when it’s not really such a big deal. Am I wrong to think that? Ha ha … It sure seemed like a bullet to me, at least, but okay, I’ll try to watch about doing that.
I guess you’d have to realize how big things seem to me, or perhaps rather, how big I make them in my mind! gasp I know, you can’t imagine that I’d so such a thing, right? more belly laughing
Okay, so this bullet involves the book I’m working on.
It still feels really weird to refer to “my book” as if it’s a real, actual thing. I’ve spent so many years with it just rolling around as an abstract in my brain that it is going to take getting used to thinking of it as something tangible.
I’ve spoken to many people, at least ‘many’ when I consider this blog or online conversations, about the fact that I’m writing a book, but as of yet, I had never let anyone read it. Oh, not because I didn’t want input or some insight on how it was going, but the fact that I was just scared witless!
I very much wanted SOMEone to read it for me, to see if it really was as rambly as it seemed to me or if it was confusing the way I explained things or if it was even interesting enough to bother with. But I didn’t really know of anyone I felt even halfway comfortable asking to read it.
The last time I served on an Emmaus team, I had the honor of serving in the conference room with the lady who was lay director of my own walk! I hadn’t seen her much in some time so it was great to have a bit of time before the weekend began while the pilgrims were still arriving to just chat and catch up.
In our chatting, I learned that she was working on writing a book herself! I was so excited to hear this. For the past couple of years, she’s been dealing with some medical issues as well. Specifically, a loss of her vision. I won’t go into the details here, but it’s a random, not-very-understood condition where there is loss of blood flow to her optic nerves. It doesn’t just make her ‘unable to see’, but it does all sorts of crazy things to her vision making it hard to balance, walk or view things properly since most of the time her field of vision is blocked in different areas.
So yeah, this essentially-blind woman is writing a book. How, you ask? Well, obviously, she had to retire from her job when all this vision trouble began. It was a job she really loved and apparently, all the people there loved her a lot too. One of the people from her old job ran into her some time after she left and as they talked, her book idea came up. She told him she had not worked on it because it had gotten so much harder to do so with her vision issues and her computer was older and not very reliable. He told her if she would promise to write this book, he’d buy her a new laptop and the software that makes it possible for the vision-impaired to use a computer with more ease.
She promised, laughingly I think, and says she then forgot about it. A few months later, another person from her old job called to see if she was going to be home. She said she would, wondering why he needed to know. He then informed her that the unlikely benefactor who’d promised her the items had brought them in and wanted him to come over and set it all up for her!
Isn’t God amazing like that? So yeah, my friend is now working away on her book and when we spoke, we talked about how nice it would be to have a fellow writer to encourage us. That was about two months ago and I haven’t worked a lot on my book lately, but I have mostly been “polishing” and trying to proof it and make sure things are readable and “followable”, that I’m not too rambly or scattered.
I had been thinking about asking my friend if she would mind reading what I have thus far and giving me her opinions, but then I’d think, “She probably doesn’t have time” or “It might be too hard for her to read that much” even though I knew she had software that would read to her and even though she had already been the most encouraging person for keeping at it.
Finally, I just did it. I emailed to ask how she was doing and if she could possibly read for me or if she would even be interested. She responded with an enthusiastic YES and so I sent it to her later that evening.
And then I waited.
I tried not to let myself fret about it too much, but then a whole week went by and no word from her. My mind went crazy thinking, “It must be awful!” and “She was probably shocked… or bored to death” and “I bet she hates it and is trying to figure out how to tactfully tell me it’s a waste of time.”
I finally couldn’t stand it, so I emailed to see how she was doing again. She’d been fighting a horrible bronchial infection during that first email reply so I asked if she was recovered from that and if she had got to read any of my stuff.
She replied almost immediately and told me she had not realized I had sent it to her already! #ohmygoodness I told her how I was fretting that she must have hated it and she said she’d been thinking that I had chickened out and decided not to send it.
Anyway, she must have started reading it right then. She emailed again and said she finished the first part and was “hooked”.
A bit later, she emailed again to say she’d read through the fourth chapter and needed to take a break but she loved it and thought it was definitely something other women could relate to and the things in it would resound with many others.
You can’t imagine how relieved I was to read that!Ionut Comanici
I figure she is enough removed from the whole thing to be objective, ya know? I’d thought about letting my daughter-in-law read it but then thought that she was just too close to it all and so I thought of another friend who is a librarian and voracious reader, but I felt uncomfortable asking her since we haven’t been that close for quite some time. I was afraid it would be an imposition. I may ask her now that my friend has given me some confidence that it is actually of some interest.
I’m waiting though, to see what she tells me after reading it all. It is mostly chronological so she has yet to get to the more “dramatic” or sensitive parts.
We shall see.
Oh, this friend recently published her first-ever blog post and it’s inspiring! She explains about her vision problems and how she is dealing with all this change in her life. You will be glad you read it, so please visit her:
Restricted Vision : Unburdened Sight (don’t you love that title?!)