It's Saturday morning, and I'm sitting here with my customary cuppa, Miss Thang hiding under my feet so she doesn't get banned to the garage. It's so hard to believe it's November already...
This time last week, I was sitting at the Golden Griddle in North Myrtle Beach with Mom, ordering pancakes (bad girl) and getting excited about the flea market. It was a nice trip, mostly, and the farthest from home we had been in two years. That's a shame, being that the ocean is only two and a half hours away from here.
The exception to the "mostly" came when Mom had a sugar drop while she was sleeping. I heard her talking and bent over to ask her if she was ready for dinner. Her eyes were open and she was pointing at the wall and she suddenly started repeating, "Maser maser maser, wester wester wester" over and over. I shook her and said, Mom, wake up! and she screamed Noooo! Folks, I'm here to tell you, I have never seen anything like that in my life and it only took a split second to call for EMS. I thought she had had a stroke - a sugar drop would never have occurred to me. And I'm usually good in emergencies and don't crumble until everything is over, but I lost it. Thank God for the EMT's. They gave her an IV and in minutes she was back to her normal self. She didn't remember any of it and hasn't had a hypoglycemic episode of that magnitude since last week.
When we got home, we took her levels and they were low over a period of time, so I decided to check me to see if maybe the meter wasn't working right. Well, her level was 52 and mine was 233.
I do believe I'll be good now.
As for Mom, her doctor has lowered her insulin dosage. As for the flea market, there wasnt much there...
As for the week, it ended on a special note, literally, when I opened my email at work and someone very thoughtful had sent "a little poetry to go with your morning tea."
Surprising, isn't it, how small things can make things right.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
AUUUGGHHH!
I knew it, could tell something was wrong the other night when I tried to save the 600 words I had just added to my November Novel. Works did not save! Shoot, and I was just getting into a groove.
How's everybody else doing?
How's everybody else doing?
Friday, October 30, 2009
National Novel Writing Month
Okay, friends and neighbors and fellow scribblers - November is coming up fast, and so is the Novel Writing event. The goal is to write a novel in 30 days (175 pages) no matter how bad it is. The goal is productivity. I'm posting a link here for anyone who is interested. Let's do it!!!!
http://www.nanowrimo.org/eng/whatisnano
http://www.nanowrimo.org/eng/whatisnano
Saturday, September 12, 2009
Trying so hard not to get the ice cream out..
Well, it's Saturday already. And it's almost over - today was a busy day.
Yesterday was my grandson's first birthday. So hard to believe a year has gone by since he was born, harder to believe how much has happened in that time. We had his party today...was very nice! He seemed especially fond of a blue and green striped shirt someone gave him, and I suspect the child will be a clotheshound.
As much as I loved having everyone over, I hope tomorrow will be more peaceful. There's a lot going on around here, still, and I'm beginning to wonder if there will ever be an end to it.
Mom now has a vertebral stress fracture and a bulging disc in her back, so she's in a lot of pain. Mike and I took her to a bone specialist last week to see if she was a candidate for gluing the fracture, but...no. We did finally get her pain medication straightened out, which has helped a lot.
Yesterday was my grandson's first birthday. So hard to believe a year has gone by since he was born, harder to believe how much has happened in that time. We had his party today...was very nice! He seemed especially fond of a blue and green striped shirt someone gave him, and I suspect the child will be a clotheshound.
As much as I loved having everyone over, I hope tomorrow will be more peaceful. There's a lot going on around here, still, and I'm beginning to wonder if there will ever be an end to it.
Mom now has a vertebral stress fracture and a bulging disc in her back, so she's in a lot of pain. Mike and I took her to a bone specialist last week to see if she was a candidate for gluing the fracture, but...no. We did finally get her pain medication straightened out, which has helped a lot.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Routine
The week has been a fast one - tomorrow is Thursday already. And there's a three day weekend coming up! The joy of it! I can sleep in for three straight days, barring disaster!
Let's see...work. My boss has given me a new responsibility. In her absence, I will arrange swaps with other units. There are times when it's necessary to find one of our guys a new "home", either because he is a security risk or he is in danger from another inmate. In those situations, we try to find a unit who also has a man they can't keep. For instance, a few months ago, two guys went to an officer and told him they were being forced by a gang to execute a hit on another man. They turned over their shanks to the officers, and those two and the intended victim were segregated until we could find a place for them (which we did, that very day). The gang leader was also locked up - but he was demoted, placed on intensive control and was eventually sent to a higher security facility.
After months of having a minimal role in the process, Ms. L. seems to think I'm ready. She even gave me a swap to work out on my own, for practice, and gave me a list of the transfer coordinators across the state. I was so excited!
I had three men to choose from for my swap....none of them winners, none of them even near honor grade material. So I chose what looked to me to be the lesser of the three evils, and wouldn't you know...he is a liability and in danger of being "food" for a certain gang anywhere he goes. We had no idea until he arrived. See, when they want to get rid of a man, those transfer coordinators aren't going to give the whole story. And I am so freaking naive.
At any rate, that deed is done. This is a responsibility I'm not at all sure I want.
Let's see...work. My boss has given me a new responsibility. In her absence, I will arrange swaps with other units. There are times when it's necessary to find one of our guys a new "home", either because he is a security risk or he is in danger from another inmate. In those situations, we try to find a unit who also has a man they can't keep. For instance, a few months ago, two guys went to an officer and told him they were being forced by a gang to execute a hit on another man. They turned over their shanks to the officers, and those two and the intended victim were segregated until we could find a place for them (which we did, that very day). The gang leader was also locked up - but he was demoted, placed on intensive control and was eventually sent to a higher security facility.
After months of having a minimal role in the process, Ms. L. seems to think I'm ready. She even gave me a swap to work out on my own, for practice, and gave me a list of the transfer coordinators across the state. I was so excited!
I had three men to choose from for my swap....none of them winners, none of them even near honor grade material. So I chose what looked to me to be the lesser of the three evils, and wouldn't you know...he is a liability and in danger of being "food" for a certain gang anywhere he goes. We had no idea until he arrived. See, when they want to get rid of a man, those transfer coordinators aren't going to give the whole story. And I am so freaking naive.
At any rate, that deed is done. This is a responsibility I'm not at all sure I want.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Wow
It has been so long since I posted a blog here that I almost (accidentally) created a new blog instead of a post. *Looking around* Things are a little different, aren't they?
Hi to all who might remember me. It has been a long nine months, but here is what has been going on with me:
I think I've finally moved completely into this house now. This summer, we were finally able to move George and Lacy into the fenced back yard with Boogie, my brother's dog. They love it! I bet all that time I was gone, they wondered why they had been deserted. When Jim brought George over, I went to the truck to take him to his new home. When he saw me, I swear, it looked like he caught his breath.
We have spent a lot of time on the patio, watching the hummingbirds. There were dozens of them, and only two feeders. I never realized how aggressive they were, and how assertive. There were several that hovered in front of me and stared me in the eyes. They may have been sizing me up. Who knows?
I have been taking care of Mom. Her spirits have been good, but, physically, she is declining. She doesn't go out on her Friday shopping trips anymore because they take too much out of her. She does, however, believe in the power of take-out, and she enjoys her Panera soup whenever she wants it!
As for me, I'm fine. Just tired lately. I really want to reconnect with all of you, though, and make this a part of my daily routine. It's time to get back to something that resembles my old life, just for the comfort of it.
Hope you're all well.
Hugs!
Hi to all who might remember me. It has been a long nine months, but here is what has been going on with me:
I think I've finally moved completely into this house now. This summer, we were finally able to move George and Lacy into the fenced back yard with Boogie, my brother's dog. They love it! I bet all that time I was gone, they wondered why they had been deserted. When Jim brought George over, I went to the truck to take him to his new home. When he saw me, I swear, it looked like he caught his breath.
We have spent a lot of time on the patio, watching the hummingbirds. There were dozens of them, and only two feeders. I never realized how aggressive they were, and how assertive. There were several that hovered in front of me and stared me in the eyes. They may have been sizing me up. Who knows?
I have been taking care of Mom. Her spirits have been good, but, physically, she is declining. She doesn't go out on her Friday shopping trips anymore because they take too much out of her. She does, however, believe in the power of take-out, and she enjoys her Panera soup whenever she wants it!
As for me, I'm fine. Just tired lately. I really want to reconnect with all of you, though, and make this a part of my daily routine. It's time to get back to something that resembles my old life, just for the comfort of it.
Hope you're all well.
Hugs!
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
Religion
Now there's a forbidden topic...but this is a blog that has to be.
When I was a little girl, we lived (still do) just down the road from Shiloh church. My cousin was the organist there, and on Saturdays, I would go with her to practice for the Sunday worship service. We had a good time in the empty church - I loved music, and we would giggle while she told me all about the choir member she had such a crush on. And then, I would attend church on Sundays, and eventually, I became a member there.
I remember reciting the Apostles Creed, taking communion. It was all very reverent,very quiet. You could have heard a gum wrapper drop, so the giggles my cousin and I shared during practice were a huge no-no. It was a perfect set-up for the culture shock that would follow when I attended a Baptist revival a few years later. The Amens! flowed, the preacher was animated and had color in his face as he invited the congregation to give their souls and hearts over to Jesus. I liked it there - and so I stayed, but didn't give myself over to Jesus until I was 15 and at yet another revival, they showed the film Scared Straight. I was traumatized by the film's graphic nature. I marched myself up to the pulpit, lest MY head should be separated from the rest of my body like the motorcyclist in the movie and gave myself over to the service of the Lord that very night. For days, I carried a Bible around with me and read it during breaks at school, my personal amulet against satan.
Meanwhile, the rest of my family remained at the old church. My mother was very upset with me for not attending there, and I stopped going anywhere for services. Yet...without the fellowship, without the support that is so important, I still remain a spiritual woman who does have a relationship with God. He has picked me up by the seat of my pants and deposited me where He wanted me to be too many times for there to be room for agnostic doubts. I believe He is the still voice that comes to me in times of trouble and lends me comfort. He is the presence in my green cathedral.
I've given a great deal of thought to Christianity and what it means over the years, what it means to serve God and do his work on this earth. I haven't always followed through, but I give when I can - not to the church, but by way of donations to community, including the animals. Lending an ear or shoulder to someone when they need it. And I'm the first to admit, I don't do this often enough. And I have often thought I would like to attend church again, but have had a difficult time deciding where to go. Not back to the Baptist church where I was a member. It has grown large and political, and they have one of those signs out front that tells you the temperature and when services will be held (a great big orange arrow pointing towards the building). My choices boiled down to the little Methodist church that hasn't changed much in thirty years and the church where my cousin was organist - UNTIL
Easter Sunday. My sister came home for the Easter celebration dinner. My son picked her up at the nursing home where she is a resident, and has been for the past fifteen years. She brought with her a letter from the new pastor at Shiloh, informing her that her membership there had been terminated for non-attendance.
My sister is in a wheelchair. She can feed herself, but there are times when she is so drunk from the medications that her eyes swim in her head. You can see it. Her feet swell so that, often, she can't get her shoes on her feet. If she has to go to the bathroom, it takes someone with a strong back to lift her from her chair and sit her on the toilet - in short, Carol doesn't get out much. The church knows this...
When I read that letter, I was burned with a flame a mile high. YES, I understand that members need to attend. But I understand something the new pastor doesn't seem to get - she can't sit there long enough for him to preach his Christian ways.
I saved the envelope for the return address, fully intending to write and first ask him if he realizes her condition, and if the answer is yes (which it should be), I planned to thank him for not visiting her at the nursing home and to congratulate him on having such a large following that he could cut loose one of his congregation without a second thought. That brand of christian love is enough to turn a person against organized religion for life. I know that after seeing the hurt in my sister's eyes, it has left a taste in my mouth more acrid than sulfur.
Perhaps I'll just stick to my green cathedral, after all.
When I was a little girl, we lived (still do) just down the road from Shiloh church. My cousin was the organist there, and on Saturdays, I would go with her to practice for the Sunday worship service. We had a good time in the empty church - I loved music, and we would giggle while she told me all about the choir member she had such a crush on. And then, I would attend church on Sundays, and eventually, I became a member there.
I remember reciting the Apostles Creed, taking communion. It was all very reverent,very quiet. You could have heard a gum wrapper drop, so the giggles my cousin and I shared during practice were a huge no-no. It was a perfect set-up for the culture shock that would follow when I attended a Baptist revival a few years later. The Amens! flowed, the preacher was animated and had color in his face as he invited the congregation to give their souls and hearts over to Jesus. I liked it there - and so I stayed, but didn't give myself over to Jesus until I was 15 and at yet another revival, they showed the film Scared Straight. I was traumatized by the film's graphic nature. I marched myself up to the pulpit, lest MY head should be separated from the rest of my body like the motorcyclist in the movie and gave myself over to the service of the Lord that very night. For days, I carried a Bible around with me and read it during breaks at school, my personal amulet against satan.
Meanwhile, the rest of my family remained at the old church. My mother was very upset with me for not attending there, and I stopped going anywhere for services. Yet...without the fellowship, without the support that is so important, I still remain a spiritual woman who does have a relationship with God. He has picked me up by the seat of my pants and deposited me where He wanted me to be too many times for there to be room for agnostic doubts. I believe He is the still voice that comes to me in times of trouble and lends me comfort. He is the presence in my green cathedral.
I've given a great deal of thought to Christianity and what it means over the years, what it means to serve God and do his work on this earth. I haven't always followed through, but I give when I can - not to the church, but by way of donations to community, including the animals. Lending an ear or shoulder to someone when they need it. And I'm the first to admit, I don't do this often enough. And I have often thought I would like to attend church again, but have had a difficult time deciding where to go. Not back to the Baptist church where I was a member. It has grown large and political, and they have one of those signs out front that tells you the temperature and when services will be held (a great big orange arrow pointing towards the building). My choices boiled down to the little Methodist church that hasn't changed much in thirty years and the church where my cousin was organist - UNTIL
Easter Sunday. My sister came home for the Easter celebration dinner. My son picked her up at the nursing home where she is a resident, and has been for the past fifteen years. She brought with her a letter from the new pastor at Shiloh, informing her that her membership there had been terminated for non-attendance.
My sister is in a wheelchair. She can feed herself, but there are times when she is so drunk from the medications that her eyes swim in her head. You can see it. Her feet swell so that, often, she can't get her shoes on her feet. If she has to go to the bathroom, it takes someone with a strong back to lift her from her chair and sit her on the toilet - in short, Carol doesn't get out much. The church knows this...
When I read that letter, I was burned with a flame a mile high. YES, I understand that members need to attend. But I understand something the new pastor doesn't seem to get - she can't sit there long enough for him to preach his Christian ways.
I saved the envelope for the return address, fully intending to write and first ask him if he realizes her condition, and if the answer is yes (which it should be), I planned to thank him for not visiting her at the nursing home and to congratulate him on having such a large following that he could cut loose one of his congregation without a second thought. That brand of christian love is enough to turn a person against organized religion for life. I know that after seeing the hurt in my sister's eyes, it has left a taste in my mouth more acrid than sulfur.
Perhaps I'll just stick to my green cathedral, after all.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
It was quite an honor when, opening my email this past week, to find that Lori at Dusty Pages had given out an award, and had included me! Thank you, Lori, and congratulations on your award. Your blogs always teach me something or leave me smiling.
And according to Lori's blog, I'm supposed to list seven things I love. They are:
1. Getting lost in a good book. The characters become real to me, and when the last page is read, it's like losing dear friends. That explains why I read my favorites over and over.
2. The scent of honeysuckle. We used to go for rides in summer, and instead of turning on the air conditioner, I kept the windows rolled down so I could smell the honey flavored air. It's a reminder of times when the world was sweeter and more simple.
3. My patio. It has become a haven, and during tumultuous times, I escape there with a cup of Seville Orange Coffee and drink it and the peace in.
4. Orange Seville coffee. It is my new passion.
5. Dogs. They love you back, no matter what.
6. The whippoorwill's song on a summer night.
7. Swimming. It's the closest thing to absolute freedom I have experienced.
One of the best things about this award is passing it on.
Paula at Pauline's Country Tales has entertained us all by taking us along on her trips out and about. You don't read her blog without feeling as if you've had a taste of life on the ranch and living in Texas!
Leigh at My Thoughts Honestly has such a way with prose. She's another who can put you in the moment.
Mary a Rejected Truth ...There really is no need for elaboration. Mary is WOW!
I do have more to add, but duty calls for now.
To all of you - I've missed you.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
I feel like poetry..
That's a good sign, don't you think?
First Light
He said,
Goodbyes aren't allowed,
It won't be forever.
I believed him, never spoke the words
until time stretched the expanse
and I thought it was broken.
Only I knew the utterance that, with no one to catch it,
fell at my feet,and the world went so wan without him.
Forever, it seemed, music was stilled and poetry withered,
exiled
like unspoken words,
to depths that could never be reached again.
All good things he said were worth waiting for
were lost in faltering faith,
and the conviction that hope was prelude to a tear drop.
But tonight, faint strainsof a long ago melody whispered,
in his voice, the sweet song
I love you
and in the breathless after-moment,
I felt the stirrings of poetry rise
to spill warm and wet from my lashes,
and the music grew stronger as the light I thought extinguished
shone prelude to a sunburst,
and the whisper closed distancewith the beautiful words...
I'm coming home.
First Light
He said,
Goodbyes aren't allowed,
It won't be forever.
I believed him, never spoke the words
until time stretched the expanse
and I thought it was broken.
Only I knew the utterance that, with no one to catch it,
fell at my feet,and the world went so wan without him.
Forever, it seemed, music was stilled and poetry withered,
exiled
like unspoken words,
to depths that could never be reached again.
All good things he said were worth waiting for
were lost in faltering faith,
and the conviction that hope was prelude to a tear drop.
But tonight, faint strainsof a long ago melody whispered,
in his voice, the sweet song
I love you
and in the breathless after-moment,
I felt the stirrings of poetry rise
to spill warm and wet from my lashes,
and the music grew stronger as the light I thought extinguished
shone prelude to a sunburst,
and the whisper closed distancewith the beautiful words...
I'm coming home.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Where I Have Been
Wow, time really slips away when you're tumbling. Ever since November 30, I have felt like God or the Universe picked up the snow globe I inhabit and shook it hard...and when the flakes finally settled, we were in some foreign space and trying to find a foothold.
Since I last wrote...
I have moved from the little house in the woods to the big house beside the busy highway in civilization (thank you, Jess, I like the way you phrased that). We moved in with my mother to take care of her. One day - and I fervently hope that one day is far, far in the future - this will be home, but for now, I'm trying to adapt.
Mom has been in the hospital, which precipitated our move. We had spent the night because she was sick, and at 3 a.m. I heard her fall. Now...had she been alone, I shudder to think what might have happened. And shortly after she came home from the hospital, she informed me that I was now living with her. I'm glad it was her decision and not mine. Makes it so much easier.
And so, coming home from work, I turn right instead of left. I am living life in an "L", and hope to be back when the dust finally settles, or at least when I'm sure the snow globe won't be shaken for a while.
So - a belated Happy New Year to all of you, and give me some time to get around to you all again. Take care!
Since I last wrote...
I have moved from the little house in the woods to the big house beside the busy highway in civilization (thank you, Jess, I like the way you phrased that). We moved in with my mother to take care of her. One day - and I fervently hope that one day is far, far in the future - this will be home, but for now, I'm trying to adapt.
Mom has been in the hospital, which precipitated our move. We had spent the night because she was sick, and at 3 a.m. I heard her fall. Now...had she been alone, I shudder to think what might have happened. And shortly after she came home from the hospital, she informed me that I was now living with her. I'm glad it was her decision and not mine. Makes it so much easier.
And so, coming home from work, I turn right instead of left. I am living life in an "L", and hope to be back when the dust finally settles, or at least when I'm sure the snow globe won't be shaken for a while.
So - a belated Happy New Year to all of you, and give me some time to get around to you all again. Take care!
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