It's a miracle.
It was a vacuum hose that popped off somehow, someway.
Just pop it back on and you've got a running vehicle.
Thank you, thank you, thank you

Blessings abound

Please add the following to the Cannot Control List:

My car running appropriately
The money to fix said car magically appearing.

Gratitude offered for:

The ride to work my boss gave me.
The ride to Middlebury my co-worker will give me
The ride home from Middlebury my neighbor will give me.

Blessings abound

There is nothing better in this moment than an almond butter and blueberry jam sandwich, quartered and savored.  Absolutely nothing.

Things I Can Control         

My food intake.
Choosing to clean the house
Taking a shower.
Wow, this is harder than I thought it would be.
How I relate to my mother
How I relate to others
How much exercise I choose to take
How much I allow other's stories to affect me

Things I Cannot Control

My food intake.
The rate at which patients call and want to be seen
How Providers relate to each other
The price of gasoline
The weather
My children
How life affects my children
How I am perceived.

Things For Which I Am Grateful
The weather
The garden
The ability to breathe on my own
The taste of an almond butter and blueberry jam sandwich
Music
My friends
The amelioration of pain
Thoughtfulness in myself and others
LoraBoraLabradora
Spike
Erik
My Children
My sister
Living in Vermont
Firewalking
The memory of Firewalking
The Autumnal Colors
You
BLessings abound

I finally bit the bullet and asked for full time hours at work. I can't be officially full time until someone leaves. However, in the meantime, I am going to be able to pick up the additional hours. This will be happy making for the budget. I'll miss my Tuesdays off during the week, but I'll be able to meet our obligations more effectively. Erik will be out of work again on the tenth of October.  The timing is good.

Most of the time, dare I say it?, I feel competent at work. Today I've been caught between providers with scheduling issues and it doesn't feel good. I keep reminding myself that I am just a messenger and as long as the patients are being seen, I'm doing what I'm supposed to. Still, it's not the most comfortable place in the world to be.

I've been reading James lately.  In one of his blogs he writes of not having the force to understand algebra. I'm beginning to wonder if I have the force to get my weight under control. I know it's something I need to do, I work at it, but it doesn't seem to become better.  I get short tempered with the long term nature of the solution to this long term problem. I feel stuck in my tendency to analyze- over analyze per my husband- why I can't seem to lose the weight. And it doesn't matter how much intellectual strength I put into it- the physical work of exercise often feels too much like work. I feel frustrated when walking results in shortness of breath. I can see some improvement when I do exercise, but my consistency is lacking.  I look in the mirror and I see the face of my Pap-pap gazing back at me.

My sister called me last night. My Aunt Rebecca is four years older than my mother. She has recently been given a pronouncement of eight to ten weeks left to live. Today my sister has the task of informing my mother that her only sibling is on her way to the next world. I don't envy my sister any, and I don't envy my mother any, either. She and her sister have always had a love-hate relationship.  It fills some sort of weird space my sister and I have never entered with each other. It's one more door closing in my mother's life and it cannot feel good to be facing the loss of her only sister, no matter how complicated the relationship. When I place myself in my mother's shoes, I feel an ache. I wonder how she will do with this impending loss. I wonder if we will be able to help her during this time. I guess we can only take it one day at a time and do our best. But I do not envy my sister having to tell our mother.

I also remember good times with my Auntie Becca before she became somewhat of a stranger to me. The last time I saw her, she insisted on showing me pictures of the man to whom my mother was wed before she and my father created me and ended up married.  The man did look a lot like my father. I didn't understand why she felt the need to do that, and it rather repelled me. I haven't seen or visited with her since. Truth is, I didn't want to see the man my mother still spoke of, and I was in the throes of missing my dad.  This happened when he was more newly dead than he is now. I do remember Rebecca teaching me to paint my finger nails when I was four or five, of times when I got to stay at Auntie Becca's house with Boo-Boo the dog and all her attention to me. I wish this wasn't happening to her.  I hope for her sake that she is painfree and comfortable. Her memory is going, so I don't know how much comfort she'll get from those around her, but I hope she is the reciepient of kindness and forgiveness as she enters this phase of her life.

Blessings abound

We trudged out to the garden, the Chief and I. The rain was misting about us, some of the grass tangled and tossed like seaweed at the shore. We were on our way to dig the lone potato plant that volunteered this year. Alas, the garden was full of wild grasses and the seedy remains of the season's weeds.  Beads of white clear silver dew bubbles lined the full wigs of grass lying about the ground.   It was impossible to find the now desiccated and disappeared foiliage of the potato plant.

I did find a wonderful and unexpected supply. My late bearing high bush blueberry bushes were loaded with dark blue, flavorful berries, all the sweeter for having passed through one frost.  I picked them easily, so ripe and ready were they. They fell off the branch and into my waiting silver colander with a mere flick of the finger.  A quart of berries came easily. I felt so peaceful, focused on the task of harvesting the berries without doing damage to the plant.

I brought the berries into the house, picked through the stems and set the little squash bugs back outside to fend off winter's approach. The bouncing dark blue orbs were poured into a saucepan. Lemon juice and organic sugar were added to the pan. They soon came to a simmer. I let them lightly boil away, stirring occasionally.  Soon enough, the ingredients had come together and were ready for the pint jars I'd prepared with the canner. I ended up with a pint and one half of deep navy blue jam.

In addition to the blue berry jam, I had apples to process. A small batch of applesauce was cooked up and canned in quart jars. I used my Champion juicer to bring the cooked apples and their skins to a thick sauce. They made for a very lovely pink sauce.   I plan on purchasing some more apples soon and canning some more applesauce.   I don't add sugar to the sauce but the mix of apples I use has a very pleasant sweetness.   For this batch I used Cortland, Macoun and Empire apples.  I like cutting apples, slicing them, coring them and feeling the heft of their firm fruit in my hand. It is very satisfying to see food put up for the family.  I am planning on putting shelves in the back bedroon and keeping the door closed so it will stay cool in their for the canned goods and the bulk carrots, potatoes and onions I plan to purchase from a local grower. But I will need to make room in that back bedroom for the shelves that will keep the air circulating so that nothing spoils.

Blessings abound

I've been awake since three thirty this morning. Too much swimming in my brain, worry about things I haven't got and a future that isn't here yet.I've done dishes, gone for a walk, gone swimming with a friend and trod the farmer's market in Middlebury. LoraboraLabradora has accompanied me through a good portion of the day's activities, jumping up on the bed when I tried to nap at one point.  She is of good disposition and inclined to nudge me hard with that blocky Labrador head of hers when I have been deemed inadequate in expressing affection for my beloved dog.

Today while I was walking through the water at the pool, waiting for my friend to join me, I realized, for not the first time, that when I have nothing scheduled to occupy my being I tend to turn the angry voice upon myself. It's the voice of the critic, and not always a constructive one at that. Something as simple as walking in a pool of water waiting for a friend turned into a small session of unkindness to myself. My friend was a little later to the pool than I was. I started to worry that I had misunderstood our agreement of when and where to meet. I had some nice derogatory words for myself. Of course, my friend appeared and all was well. But in that small bit of time I realized I was being unkind to myself instead of bringing my focus to the task at hand- that of being in the water and seeing what might happen.

It's a small mind, after all. Blessings abound

I put up thirteen quarts of tomatoes today. My neighbor helped with the last few quarts. I had split a half bushel with a friend. The tomatoes were picked at a local grower before the first killing frost appeared. The tomatoes sat for five days before I could put them up. The bruised and spotty areas went to feed my friend's chickens, as did the skins sloughed off with hot water and the gentle pressure of forefinger pushing it away. 

Thirteen quarts are not a lot when one looks at what this family consumes in food. I should by rights put up thrice that  for The Chief and I. For this year, it will have to be enough that these have been put up. Along with the four quarts of dilly beans I earned by teaching a friend how to can in general and can them in particular.  I've been making a more concerted effort to be aware of from where our food originates. Thanks to my parents raising chickens and having a big garden when I was a kid, I knew there were faces associated with the things I eat. It was not a surprise to learn that potatoes come from the ground. My husband's nephews were amazed to find that potatoes come from the ground.  It was the first time they'd seen potatoes dug. One of my earliest memories is of my grandfather presenting me with the biggest potato he'd grown in his garden and telling me he'd grown it just for me. I don't think I ever ate all that potato myself, but it was an early lesson in where food comes from.

I made a slip in a comment I made earlier at a site. I wonder if I meant what I said  when I typed, "more often than not it is worth the effort" when choosing to act in anger and unkindness. I'm usually pretty precise with what I say I mean. And the quote stays there because I don't know how to use the fifteen minute edit aspect of Xanga. I know there are times that the indulgence of anger are not appropriate. I'm wondering who it's worth that much emotional blast. The biggest things that make me angry are the things that make me fearful. Uncover my anger and you'll usually find fear. Sometimes anger is the thing that shows me I am in fear.  I'm not sure how that happened to become a pattern, but it has.

The house smells good. Scents of chicken and potatoes, squash and tomatoes all baking in the oven. Warming the house with the propane expended in cooking. Giving thanks for the woodstove and the cords of wood we have to heat our home. Wondering how some of my neighbors are going to heat their homes with the cost of heating oil being what it is.  Things are tight, but we are fortunate that heating our home is a fairly controlled expense when heating with wood.

Meandering and wondering if it's really worth the effort to be angry. Blessings abound

Why is it that when trying to practice, something always comes along to test one's discipline?  Anybody?

blessings abound

It amazes me how hard it is to cart this carcass around.  It also amazes me that I feel so well after I exercise. I managed a twenty minute walk at lunch time today. Though I am sweaty, I feel a little more able to deal with whatever the rest of the afternoon has to offer me. Certainly walking with music makes it go a little more smoothly. And then the whole, " Use your inhaler before exercising thing comes in handy.  Interesting how much better I feel when I can breathe properly.

Things to celebrate today: The sun is out. The sky is blue.  The love of my spouse. The muscles I am building when I exercise both my body and my heart. I am open to being more kind. It's a practice to be aware of opening the kindness within to both others and myself. There are many opportunities in my job as a triage nurse to choose kindness or some other less complimentary emotion. Today, I am choosing to be more kind. 

Purple asters. White Queen Anne's lace. Golden Rod. A full breath. Legs that support me. Absence of pain. Presence of pleasure in being able to move. Blessings abound

The Chief took me to the fire station so I could use the Broad band connection here to download I-tunes. I bought an Ipod shuffle almost a month or so ago and the dial up at home is so prohibitively slow, I've not been able to download the program so vital to it's use.

The plan when I bought the shuffle was to use it for motivation while out on my walks to recover my more aerobic self. In the middle of waiting for the right down load opportunity, I found out my asthma was not well controlled and that is getting better.

Tomorrow we're taking a trip to Platsburgh to see Mason and his environment. He's liking classes at SUNY Platsburgh and seems to have a new lease on life. I am looking forward to seeing where he lives, meeting his friends and assuring myself that he has done well in making a place in the world for himself at this point in time. He called last night and was in the middle of a laugh that sounded like a sob and adrenalin shot through my limbs, it scared me so. But then it became very clear that he was laughing and eventually I was able to calm myself. It doesn't take much to rattle my cage where my sons are concerned.  That's what comes of being a fear based life form trying to reform.

Blessings abound