I try very hard not to take anything for granted in my life. I prefer forethought to hindsight, despite how clear the latter can be. But I realize now that I have taken simple movement for granted. On New Year's Day, at 10:02pm, I broke my toe. The one next to my baby toe on my right foot...and her two nearby friends are also fairly bruised up. How do I know the exact time? I was running through a darkened apartment, in a hurry to answer the ringing phone. I forgot about the metal bed frame I had laid on my bedroom floor. I ran into the bedframe at a run. Pain radiated up my leg, but I managed to calmly answer the phone. It was a wrong number.
The following day I went to Urgent Care, and found I had indeed broken a toe. For the past week, I have been learning what life is like for those who are not easily mobile. Even now, when I am off the crutches, every movement on my feet has to be preplanned. Too long on my feet, and it hurts, or worse, it goes numb. I've spent a great deal of time sitting in a chair with my feet on a leather ottoman.
Take today. I had to do my bi-weekly grocery shopping first thing in the morning, because there was no way I could handle walking around Krogers after a full day at the office. Going down the stairs to do laundry is an exercise in logistics. And it made me miss out on my weekly session in the nursery....
Now I plan out my movements. I know I have limited time on my feet, so I try to combine errands, tasks. And I remember fondly about simply jumping up and running somewhere. Anywhere.
I will never take free movement for granted again.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Storytelling
I have always loved to read books. I love to watch a good television show, or a well put together movie. I have also loved to sit and listen to people talk. All of these things have one thing in common-stories. I love to listen to stories. The best kind are the true to life.
I grew up listening to my father tell stories of his childhood, of growing up as a kid during a war. He told of his father raising rabbits for the war effort, and about his ma's love of boats. I've listened to my (great) Uncle Paul tell about how he and his brothers (including my grampa) got into trouble-from hopping trains to fights. I've listened to my pastor's mother talk about when Tommy was a little boy. I love to listen to my children retell stories of happy events in their lives. I've even talked to relative strangers, while sitting in the comfy green chairs at Barnes & Noble, and heard their stories of living, and learning, and working.
I truly enjoy listening to people tell their stories. And listening to a person tell a story is better than reading even, because you see their memories play out in their eyes, and see the emotion of their hearts. I can think of no better way to learn about people than to sit with them and listen to their stories.
Won't you tell me your stories?
I grew up listening to my father tell stories of his childhood, of growing up as a kid during a war. He told of his father raising rabbits for the war effort, and about his ma's love of boats. I've listened to my (great) Uncle Paul tell about how he and his brothers (including my grampa) got into trouble-from hopping trains to fights. I've listened to my pastor's mother talk about when Tommy was a little boy. I love to listen to my children retell stories of happy events in their lives. I've even talked to relative strangers, while sitting in the comfy green chairs at Barnes & Noble, and heard their stories of living, and learning, and working.
I truly enjoy listening to people tell their stories. And listening to a person tell a story is better than reading even, because you see their memories play out in their eyes, and see the emotion of their hearts. I can think of no better way to learn about people than to sit with them and listen to their stories.
Won't you tell me your stories?
Saturday, January 1, 2011
1-1-11
Today is the first day of the first month of the eleventh year of this century...in other words, 1-1-11. What is about the first of anything that is so daunting? Somehow the beginning of something is always so intimidating. Simply starting a thing is the hardest part. There is a quote I've heard, 'All journeys begin with a single step.' I am a queen of procrastination. Getting started on something is my biggest hurdle, that which keeps me from achieving my goals, my dreams. Even little things...I waited until the day before my sister visited to try the patchwork cover for a composition book. Yes, I ran into a few difficulties, mainly with underestimating what seam allowance to use, but it still came out beautifully. I procrastinated at trying the puppy chow (people chow?) recipe with the substitution of the peanut butter with nutella, as I was headed to a peanut free gathering. I made the batch less than 2 hours before I had to leave.
Why do I do this? Why do I procrastinate? Because taking the first step, the first action, is so scary. I have a big problem with fear. Fear of conflict, fear of difficulty, fear of anxiety. So, I tend to avoid situations that begat those fears....thus, procrastination.
While I don't know how to overcome fear, and procrastination, I do know that recognising the problem is the first step in overcoming it. As I used to hear on the G.I. Joe cartoons when I was a teen 'knowing is half the battle.' So, now I know what the trouble is, and can work to combat it. If I can take that first step.
And to hold myself accountable, here are my Five New Year Resolutions:
1. Eliminate debt by the end of the year (except for that incurred by #2)
2. Purchase reliable vehicle-preferably red
3. Finish and completely revise On a Moonless Night (a book I nearly finished writing during Nanowrimo)
4. Learn 200 signs (sign language)
5. Walk a million steps
Why do I do this? Why do I procrastinate? Because taking the first step, the first action, is so scary. I have a big problem with fear. Fear of conflict, fear of difficulty, fear of anxiety. So, I tend to avoid situations that begat those fears....thus, procrastination.
While I don't know how to overcome fear, and procrastination, I do know that recognising the problem is the first step in overcoming it. As I used to hear on the G.I. Joe cartoons when I was a teen 'knowing is half the battle.' So, now I know what the trouble is, and can work to combat it. If I can take that first step.
And to hold myself accountable, here are my Five New Year Resolutions:
1. Eliminate debt by the end of the year (except for that incurred by #2)
2. Purchase reliable vehicle-preferably red
3. Finish and completely revise On a Moonless Night (a book I nearly finished writing during Nanowrimo)
4. Learn 200 signs (sign language)
5. Walk a million steps
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Odd Meal of Oddness
I don't know why, maybe it's just being moody, family discord, or because of the overcast week we'd had, but I really rebelled against the idea of making an ordinary, just the same as I do every year, Christmas dinner. Every year since childhood I've had pretty much the same menu: baked ham, homemade scalloped potatoes, corn, and some type of bread. I do absolutely love homemade scalloped potatoes, especially the edges where it gets brown and crispy.... but I just didn't want to do it this year.
So, I talked to my daughter, then got on Facebook and asked advice. One person said to just make everyone's favorites. Others said it was okay to do something really different. I talked to the three that would be around my table. Cat wanted cranberry sauce served directly from the can with a spoon. Bob simply wanted meat (as I'm a veg, it's a valid request). Lauryn wanted candied sweet potatoes. I wanted pan fried mac&cheese. So...taking all this into mind, I planned out the menu.
I made homemade mac&cheese, and put it into a parchment paper lined loaf pan. Just before dinner, I sliced it and pan fried it in a wee bit of margarine.
Christmas 2010 menu: pan fried mac&cheese, frozen pizza (baked), candied sweet potatoes, hard salami, muenster&colby cheese, rolls, cranberry sauce-served directly from the can, taquitos, and condiments. It was eclectic and fun and quite delicious. Everyone was happy, and well fed. And best of all, I enjoyed the time spent with my family, laughing over the weird meal. Cat dubbed it the Odd Meal of Oddness.
Merry Christmas Everyone!
So, I talked to my daughter, then got on Facebook and asked advice. One person said to just make everyone's favorites. Others said it was okay to do something really different. I talked to the three that would be around my table. Cat wanted cranberry sauce served directly from the can with a spoon. Bob simply wanted meat (as I'm a veg, it's a valid request). Lauryn wanted candied sweet potatoes. I wanted pan fried mac&cheese. So...taking all this into mind, I planned out the menu.
I made homemade mac&cheese, and put it into a parchment paper lined loaf pan. Just before dinner, I sliced it and pan fried it in a wee bit of margarine.
Christmas 2010 menu: pan fried mac&cheese, frozen pizza (baked), candied sweet potatoes, hard salami, muenster&colby cheese, rolls, cranberry sauce-served directly from the can, taquitos, and condiments. It was eclectic and fun and quite delicious. Everyone was happy, and well fed. And best of all, I enjoyed the time spent with my family, laughing over the weird meal. Cat dubbed it the Odd Meal of Oddness.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Rediscovering Joy
I've been working my way out of the valley of sadness, thrown into further shadow by the inherent lack of light recently. Slowly, I've been edging my way out inch by inch. I still have a foot in the shadow, but am out of the valley, looking all around for the sun. All I see is the icy clouds hiding it...for now.
I decided to be proactive, and help seek happiness myself, instead of blatantly sitting around waiting for it to show up. So, I made a list of things that make me happy, that I could do soon. Included in that list are: picking up new books at the library, crocheting while talking to a friend, braiding a denim rug for my bedroom, working on the last chapters of my story, mint chocolate chip ice cream, jelly beans, getting to spend some time with my best friend Connie-in person, going to see a movie, sewing for fun, and listening to my father tell stories.
By focusing on these things, and by trying to do as many as I can, it's helped me start climbing out of the darkness and towards the light. Now if only I could find jelly beans.... ah, well. Instead, I'll venture out to the library soon, and call up Connie and crochet whilst kibitzing with her.
I decided to be proactive, and help seek happiness myself, instead of blatantly sitting around waiting for it to show up. So, I made a list of things that make me happy, that I could do soon. Included in that list are: picking up new books at the library, crocheting while talking to a friend, braiding a denim rug for my bedroom, working on the last chapters of my story, mint chocolate chip ice cream, jelly beans, getting to spend some time with my best friend Connie-in person, going to see a movie, sewing for fun, and listening to my father tell stories.
By focusing on these things, and by trying to do as many as I can, it's helped me start climbing out of the darkness and towards the light. Now if only I could find jelly beans.... ah, well. Instead, I'll venture out to the library soon, and call up Connie and crochet whilst kibitzing with her.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Imaginary Friends
Tonight I've been watching this movie about a woman who meets her childhood imaginary friend. He's a guy, also an adult now, named Michael. Not a bad movie, not great, but best thing on TV right now. It got me thinking about imaginary friends. Now I was an unusual child. I was never like anyone else.
Other people had imaginary playmates that were little girls, like them. Me, I had an imaginary horse. I hid him in my bedroom, and he only came out when we were alone. I fed him, and brushed him, and put big bright red bows on his tail. He was about the size of a small Shetland pony, though I'd never seen a horse in
'person' before. He had a dark brown coat, and a pure white mane. We had many adventures together, but he mostly just slept in a stable next to my bed. He kept me company on long dark nights. I loved that horse, and told him everything, my thoughts, my fears, and my dreams.
I remember the day I decided that we needed to part ways. It was by mutual agreement. I was getting older, and taking care of him was getting difficult. He wanted to go run in green pastures filled with white daisies in the sunshine. So one night, after we'd had a long chat, and said our goodbyes. I gave him a good brush down, tied on a big red bow, and sent him to live with the fairies in the wall.
Other people had imaginary playmates that were little girls, like them. Me, I had an imaginary horse. I hid him in my bedroom, and he only came out when we were alone. I fed him, and brushed him, and put big bright red bows on his tail. He was about the size of a small Shetland pony, though I'd never seen a horse in
'person' before. He had a dark brown coat, and a pure white mane. We had many adventures together, but he mostly just slept in a stable next to my bed. He kept me company on long dark nights. I loved that horse, and told him everything, my thoughts, my fears, and my dreams.
I remember the day I decided that we needed to part ways. It was by mutual agreement. I was getting older, and taking care of him was getting difficult. He wanted to go run in green pastures filled with white daisies in the sunshine. So one night, after we'd had a long chat, and said our goodbyes. I gave him a good brush down, tied on a big red bow, and sent him to live with the fairies in the wall.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
My Grampa
This time of year always reminds me of my Grampa, my father's dad. I think of him in part because the 19th was his birthday. He was born December 19th, 1904. Wow. He served as a Marine sometime before World War 2, then raised rabbits as part of the war effort. My dad was a little boy back then. My father has told me countless stories about his childhood, and his father. As many times as he's told the stories, I still enjoy hearing them.
For me, my Grampa was a cool guy who my father would take my sister, brother and I to see every weekend. I always took Sooner, a tiny dog who I never knew what breed she was, for a quick walk up and down the block. When I'd come in, my dad would be talking to Grampa, and my siblings would be watching wrestling, something we weren't allowed to watch at home (yay Bulldog Kent and the Sheik). Every year at Christmas time, he would hang a candy cane on the lamp beside his sofa. That candy cane would become part of the collection of canes that hung there year round.
I remember the plain white paper bags he would give my siblings and I for Christmas, filled with candy, nuts and shiny change. Loved it! And I remember one year he made cheesecakes, festooned with sprinkles used to make a design. He was so creative!
When I was in 9th grade, I was feeling really sick at school, but they wouldn't let me walk home without them speaking to a relative first. Well, both my parents were at work, so I called my Grampa. He okayed my going home. When I got there, he called to check on me. He also gave me his recipe for a tea to make me feel better: hot tea with a generous dollop of honey and a half a shot of whiskey. Well, I did the tea with honey only, obviously. Still he was really there for me.
My Grampa and my Aunt Alise (my maternal grandmother's twin) are the two relatives that meant the most to me growing up. They were my extended family. I still have my Aunt Alise (who always speaks her mind, which I love about her, and who claims to be 39 still. So cool.) But I lost my Grampa in May of 86. Every year on December 19th, I think of him even more. I miss you Grampa.
I'm going to go hang a candy cane on my lamp, in honor of my Grampa.
For me, my Grampa was a cool guy who my father would take my sister, brother and I to see every weekend. I always took Sooner, a tiny dog who I never knew what breed she was, for a quick walk up and down the block. When I'd come in, my dad would be talking to Grampa, and my siblings would be watching wrestling, something we weren't allowed to watch at home (yay Bulldog Kent and the Sheik). Every year at Christmas time, he would hang a candy cane on the lamp beside his sofa. That candy cane would become part of the collection of canes that hung there year round.
I remember the plain white paper bags he would give my siblings and I for Christmas, filled with candy, nuts and shiny change. Loved it! And I remember one year he made cheesecakes, festooned with sprinkles used to make a design. He was so creative!
When I was in 9th grade, I was feeling really sick at school, but they wouldn't let me walk home without them speaking to a relative first. Well, both my parents were at work, so I called my Grampa. He okayed my going home. When I got there, he called to check on me. He also gave me his recipe for a tea to make me feel better: hot tea with a generous dollop of honey and a half a shot of whiskey. Well, I did the tea with honey only, obviously. Still he was really there for me.
My Grampa and my Aunt Alise (my maternal grandmother's twin) are the two relatives that meant the most to me growing up. They were my extended family. I still have my Aunt Alise (who always speaks her mind, which I love about her, and who claims to be 39 still. So cool.) But I lost my Grampa in May of 86. Every year on December 19th, I think of him even more. I miss you Grampa.
I'm going to go hang a candy cane on my lamp, in honor of my Grampa.
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