Once again, I find myself late at night at the computer keyboard, searching for connection. This time I am typing names into Facebook. This time they are the names of cousins, of my father's youngest sister, Betty, who surely is in her mid to late seventies at the youngest. I find myself wondering if his older sister, my Aunt Lucille, is still alive. She had wicked lung disease from smoking. She did not attend his funeral eleven years ago. I haven't seen my Aunt Betty since I was ten. I haven't seen two of my cousins since Daddy died and one of them I last saw in Shamokin about five or six or seven years ago.  I'm not exactly sure of how long it's been, it's been a while in a family that doesn't seem to connect unless one lives in the PA-MD area.  So I've sent out some friend requests. Maybe I'll search some obituaries on line tonight . The house is starting to warm from the wood fire I builty when I came home. Erik has been gone all day and he went straight to bed when he came home, so the house was cold with the wood unlicked by flame.

Blessings abound

Tis the start of Spring. This weekend I am a Fire Widow.  The Chief is off to Pittsford to the Police Academy for some sort of training. Tonight they're having Fireman Fellowship with a meal afterwards. Tomorrow, he returns to the Acadamy for round two. There'll be other weekends when he'll leave for long stretches, come home to sleep and then go back to training. He loves it.

For today, I am going to visit Gert and take her out to lunch. She hates returning to the apartment alone, so I will bring some of my knitting and sit with her for a while. She's grieving Herbert's loss. I wish there were more I could do for her.  Evan, her son, says she needs a cat, but she does not want to do that. It used to be she would tease about getting a cat, when Herbert was alive. Now she's not so interested.

I think I'll bring LoraBoraLabraDora to visit with me today. She can bring a smile to Gert's face. Gert loves to feed Lora Ritz crackers.  Lora loves to eat them. Gert will even put the cracker in her mouth for Lora to gently remove.

Blessings abound

....tired yet I don't want to go to sleep, I stay awake at the computer. Out of boredom and a reluctance to let my head hit the pillow, I sit up and plug names into Facebook. It's interesting enough, sometimes I find friends find coworkers. Inevitably, I type in the name of the boy I was most likely to stalk in high school. I'd love to say he was my boyfriend once, but the truth of the matter is that he never was. He was a boy, who was a friend, a friend one might now say, "with benefits".  I got a lot out of the relationship- someone to talk to, hang out with ( as long as no one else was looking) and some heartache, too. I was stupid in love with him. I think now adays my behavior would qualify as stalking. But I was desperate for him to like me back, so I did stupid things like leave notes on his car's windshield. Or share the lead with him in high school plays. Or ride the back roads, giving him a ride home on one flimsy excuse or another.

I often wonder what he got out of our relationship. I know he lost his virginity in a very creative way to me. We talked, but I'll be damned if I remember what about. He went away to the Army after he graduated high school. While he was away, I lost weight and was quite pretty. He came home and saw me as I was at twenty and for a tiny bit pursued me. I was engaged and should have known that the way I was flattered by his response was indicative that I wasn't really ready for marriage. I remember lying in his arms after swimming in Swan Lake in the darkness of a new moon. We talked and nothing else happened. I went on with my engagement, he went on to do whatever it was he was going to do. I even invited him to the wedding. And he came and hung out with other high school friends. I see him on Face book every once in a while. He looks jaunty in his Raybans and bandanna, off on a lake somewhere, smiling.

Blessings abound

Today marks the sixth time my work space has been moved. I am now esconced in- drum roll, please! The drug sample closet. It's not so much a closet as an 8 by 12 foot room devoted to samples and the refrigerator full of vaccines and insulin. I now occupy the area in the northern corner with a cork board and two adjustable shelves. To keep me from feeling isolated, the door that is unlocked only with typed in codes is propped open during the day. Oh, and just for a little ambience, my boss brought in a wrought iron lamp that sits on the other side of the formica barrier board. There is no good feng shui to the with that lamp. At least now I can hear my phone calls through my head set. All I did during the meeting was request that we turn down the radio in the nurse's station and suddenly people are brainstorming other places where my work station can be located. So today I end up in the drug room. At least I can fart in there and not worry about anyone hearing.

Speaking of work, one of the docs is on vacation for the next two weeks. So far the staffing is working out, but I feel like I hold my breath hoping to have enough spaces with our only nurse practitioner who does pediatrics. Before he came along, we had to send pediatrics under fourteen to one of our affiliate health centers one half hour away. That didn't always go over so well with the parents of some of the kids. And some of them just flat out couldn't afford to make the hour's round trip because they couldn't scrape together the gas money.

I'm sure there's something else to write about, but for the life of me I can't think of what it was at work.

I found my therapist on Facebook today. There's a picture of her in the middle of a hike. She looks absolutely happy as can be. Alone with a back pack on the edge of the Grand Canyon. I admire her ability to embrace life and hike like that.  She's a good role model. If it weren't for the work I've done with her I wouldn't have been able to do a lot of things in this life of mine. 

Why do fiber bars make one so horribly flatulent? I'm enjoying what fiber has done for my high density lipids, but it's reeking (emphasis on REEK) havoc with my digestive tract. Perhaps if I drank more water? Increased my fiber intake some more to increase transit time? I don't know. And, why, all of a sudden, do I have one area on my arm that looked mole like now itching and bleeding a little? Yes, I know, get them checked. But my doc is out of town for a couple of weeks, so it will have to wait a bit. I'm pretty sure that one can be frozen off.

Blessings abound

Yes, maybe I am. Earlier today I gently insisted on going out and toddering around on my snowshoes. This required help from husband because I currently have trouble staying bent over long enough to adjust the straps on my bear claws. I also wanted him for stand by. LoraBoraLabraDora was to accompany us, as I wanted her to be out with us and to learn not to trod on the tails of my shoes. The last time I went out on my snowshoes, about two years ago, maybe last year? I ended up face down in the snow bank because she was walking on the tails of my shoes. My feet just stopped moving. My moment, however, did not cease. I pitched forward and ended up face down at the base of the apple tree and I could not right myself. I'm not sure how long I endured that face plant, but it was long enough that Spike went out in the road and was trying, in his innate doggy way, to flag down help for me. Erik eventually came home to find me yelling into the snow. Very effective. He helped me up and out. I did not want a repeat of that today, especially since Spike is no longer here to protect me from myself.

It was sunny. The sky was blue. The snow was very crusty, having been rained upon after the twenty or so inches was fluffed down upon us. It wasn't slippery at all, and bore me well. I did use two ski poles to help me support myself. I breathed in fresh, crisp air. Erik was watchful, but I know for him it is difficult when I go out and about. He thinks I should be walking and building my strength up. It's a little two conservative for me. I miss my cross country skis. Not really up for kick and glide at this time.

When I came inside, I started having spasms in my glutes. But a little Advil, a little rest, and the spasms were calmed and I felt pretty good. Then I started working on dinner. Brown Sugar and Beer Braised Beef was on the menu. At one point I pivoted between the counter and the stove and BAM! I was back to hurtin' unit. Which distresses my husband. So maybe I'm the moron for doing things a little less carefully.  I will stop short of saying that Maybe I'm the moron because I got to this point. But I won't say that. See how I worked it into the conversation anyway?

So nowI'm blogging and wishing for a good game of something with someone. I've read some blogs, hung out on Face book, friended a few folks that I haven't seen in a while. I don't want to admit that the weekend is drawing to a close and that it's time for bed.

Blessings abound

I can't stay irritated with him long. He did, in the end, enjoy the dinner I made, though he balked at my adding a saute of peppers, onions and zucchini. However, he did eat it and enjoy it. I just wish it wasn't such a struggle to add vegetables and other foods outside of his comfort zone. I don't remember that it used to be such a production when it came to food and meals. Perhaps as he ages, he's becoming more cantankerous when it comes to food.  He even enjoyed a bottle of the dark Porter we had with dinner.

This morning he let me sleep in. He brought me coffee and turned on NESN so I could watch Spring Break with the Sox. He's been a chatterbox, imitating Tom Caron and inserting himself into my wake up time in an endearing though slightly obnoxious way. He's off for a walk with the dog now, leaving me with the slightly senile Kim Cat.

Blessings abound

There are times in the last twenty or so years where I would swear I married a moron. Today grocery shopping became one of those times.  We had agreed to go shopping together on this Saturday morning so I could purchase some foods I had in mind. The Chief usually grocery shops on Thursday or Friday. He has a very specific routine in mind.  He executes a shopping trip like a military mission with precision and a minimum of curiosity about what might be in those exorbitantly excessive aisles.

Me, I like to look in each aisle, consider the possibilities. There was some endive available. I remembered a recipe for Braised Endive in Julia Child's What To Cook. I was meant with a click of disgust and the remark that we didn't need any of those, what ever they were. I tried to explain to him what they were and what I had in mind for them. That went over about as well as a fart in church. Angrily, I put the endive back. I had forgotten that the better antidote for one of these incidents is to purchase the food in question. Then I prepare it and most times recieve compliments on the results and an apology for being misjudged. I was too tired of that routine to indulge it today.

We didn't really go through aisles in a leisurely fashion as I enjoy doing. No, fast drills down the aisles, familiar items plopped into the cart. Sauteed peppers and onions with tonight's steak? ''Just buy one pepper,' I was told. I bought two, a red one and an orange one. I bought red pears for poaching, bittersweet chocolate for molten chocolate cakes.

Just now, I was interrupted by him whining that we have no cinnamon. I had to show him where it was in the spice cabinet.  He couldn't seem to manage moving the front row of spices aside to find the three quarter's full cinnamon container. I feel impatient with him and his inability to look more than one row into a cabinet. He is getting on my last nerve.

Better pray for him.

Blessings abound

I've had a nap and am feeling much less cranky now. Still have the Wandering Itch, but more from curiosity than disgust with the mundane. I still hurt a little, but my outlook is improved. Thank goodness for the blessings of rest. Ginger tea helps, too.

The rain is pummeling the snow and the roads are slicker than dog snot. I am even now grateful that I am not driving home on them.  The woodstove is warm and macaroni boils on the stove. Blessings abound

I'm having one of those times in my life when I itch in my spirit. My sould wants to go adventuring. I want to do anything but what life has in store for me in my mundane life.  I want to quit my job, walk away from everyone I know and go someplace warm.  It's a temporary malady based on the routine of work that is made more chaotic by construction and having my workspace moved for the FIFTH fucking time.  Undergoing physical therapy again for lower extremity and body issues that I have not been able to remedy on my own- in fact, I'm home today because after PT my sciatica was flared up and I knew I couldn't deal with that and my newer, smaller workspace in the middle of the back nurse's station on a Thursday when we have more people working than we have stations for them to work at. When I'm hurting as I was this morning, it is harder for me to care about what the people on the phone soliciting my help want.  We had about twenty four inches of snow yesterday and lost power.   Usually this does not bother me, but after having my work station moved I wanted to hide in the televised Olympic games. So that was out of the question. It did make me go to bed for the evening at 6:30.  I think the long winter's night helped my disposition. 

I'm itching for Spring to sprout. I'm imagining raised beds where the garden is currently flatter so I can still sow, weed and harvest without bending.  I can no longer bend or kneel for protracted pieces of time.  Raised beds are the answer. I stood at the sliding glass door this afternoon and imagined the small deck on the end of the house wider and longer. On each side would be a bed for cultivation, high enough so that when I stand on the ground at the other side, I can easily reach the beds to garden.

I miss my skis.  I miss the kick glide of cross country. I have the equipment. I don't have the strength in my legs and core to do it properly, so I've been advised to wait.

I think the right word for me at this moment is disgruntled. The thing is, even as I whine, I know that these are small things compared with so many other misfortunes one could be dealt.  

 Time for a Blessing List

I have A Loving husband who is recovering nicely from his December surgery. I love my dog.  My dog loves me and is currently snoring on the couch beside me. My work gives me stimulating challenges and the opportunity to help people. I have a cozy home with an intact roof over my head. I can blog again. Spring training is around the corner. So are croci, daffodils and checkered lilies.  I have health insurance, granted, it's got a high deductible, but it helps us, nonetheless. I have lots and lots of snow to play in with the dog. I have music. I have good friends. I have a great physical therapist. I have healthy, grown children who still stay in touch with me. I have perennials that will be filling the yard with green, red, yellow, purple and orange in a very short while. I have Gert. I am blessed even when I am cranky.

Blessings abound

A shiny silver disc, thin yet full of music. A mixed CD, decorated with green and yellow writing in a feminine hand. Made for one of my sons by a young woman I may or may not know. Somehow, it has ended up in my CD car case. The handwriting looks flirty and fun. It is all in French, the words on this gleaming silver disc.I slide it into the CD player.

 I am in no mood for NPR on the way home tonight. The snow frame carved out by my black windshield wipers keeps me cocooned cozily in my car. Cold black leather soothes the tight aching muscles of my back. The music washes over me.  Words come floating through me, as if somehow this tape were made only for me. Take me and dry the rain,  Guitar, Drums strumming beating keep me sealed in my car as down the gray ribbon of snow splattered road I drive, Drive north to home, drive away from the stress that needs of others that have whirled around during the work day.

If there's something inside that you want to say, you can say it out loud, it will be okay, I will be all right, I will be allright, I will be allright I will be allright.  The music caresses me, lifts me up affirms me.

One song ends another begins, The bass is strong, thrums through my chest makes me want to drive faster. This song doesn't move me like the first, but still I feel comforted.

Do you realize you have the most beautiful face?............ Do you realize that everyone you know some day will die?      And instead of saying all  of your good byes, let them know you know that life goes fast

Bells in this song extol and emphasize I have a beautiful face, I do. Someone made this CD for this day and it's reaching out to me. And yes, I know everyone I know someday will die.

I dream so easy under you, everyone needs a way out. I breathe so easy next to you, everyone needs a way out.  As easy as an exhale my husband is beside me in the car and we are following that road that is now music stanza's the signatures swirling in the snow. I think, yes, yes I breathe so easily next to him. He is the one in this world who brings me ease and peace. Lilac scent in the air makes it so I don't care. Music is my way out. Erik is my peace.

Whoever made this CD has made an eclectic sense of my world. He shook it like a chorus girl, he shook it like a Harlem Queen,  just guitar and only guitar, but two guitars not one and the intricacies of the musician's hands holds me, arms out of the speakers rocking me.

And now it's time to turn onto 125.  No one is behind me, no one is before me. It is only me, the music and the long climb up the hills to home. Blessings abound