GO FIGURE ...

Going Private ... NOT !

Mon, 29 Oct 2007 20:22:26 GMT

Dear friends,

Well, I guess I goofed ! You see, I decided to go the FREE route with AOL, seeing as how I already have an internet provider. Anyway ..... I was told that when you go the free route, AOL will drop your journal if you don't keep up on your entries. And that posed a dilemma for me. I didn't want to lose my journal, but I'm not quite ready to get back to posting again. SO .... I figured I would switch to 'private' temporarily, which would enable me to come in here, dash off a line or two, and in this way keep my journal alive. I wouldn't lose my past entries, and it would be here when I decided to start writing again. The only thing I failed to consider was that it would notify my readers that I went private. Actually, I didn't know this would happen. And I don't want anybody out there to think that I have any intention of excluding them. I value you all, and believe me, when I get back to actually writing, this journal will be open to all, just as it was before. Until then, it will be posted as private.

I've had a few friends send notes of concern, and I want to thank them so much. It's nice to know that people were thinking of me, and concerned. You guys are the best ! Anyway, I am planning to get back in here in the not too distant future, and look forward to hearing from you .... You have been missed !! Take care,

Love, Tina

THE END OF THE ROAD

Sun, 11 Mar 2007 08:10:53 GMT

I've spent the past few months trying to decide whether to put my journal on hold. I have debated the issue in my mind .... Do I continue? Should I take a time out? Quit altogether ? Every time I thought about quitting, I would tell myself that it wasn't time yet. That I still had a few unwritten entries in me. I just needed to discipline myself to sit down and write them.

And so, I have waited. Waited for the entries to come to me. Sometimes they did ... and I wrote them. And then I just as promptly disgarded them. I would write, and rewrite. And write some more. And then I would let my writing sit for a day, and come back to make corrections before I posted it. At which time I would finish the corrections, reread the entry, and decide that even with perfect spelling and punctuation, the piece was just no good. I mean, if it bored me to read it, I can't imagine the kind of pain it would inflict on others, who probably had no interest in the subject in the first place. And so it went.

Fast forward to the Friday before last. I broke my toe in a nasty collision with the leg of a chair. Clumsy me ! I spent the weekend with my foot up on ice packs, trying to reduce the swelling and bruising. And set about trying to find something productive to do while I couldn't get around. On Monday I had an x-ray taken to confirm what I already knew. They confirmed my self-diagnosis. I spent the better part of the past week grounded, except for the things that I really have to do, and a few things that I shouldn't have done, but just couldn't stop myself from doing. And other than that, It's been a restlessly long week.

So .... I have had plenty of time to write an entry or two. But I kept coming up with other things I needed to do. I did manage to type out a few words here and there. And I threw them away as soon as I had a chance to read themthrough a second time. It was at this point that the truth dawned on me. I just don't seem to have the drive to keep this up. I think that the reason I have kept on as long as I have is because of the many incredible people I have met here along the way. People I feel I have gotten to really know and care for. Men and women with whom I have shared my thoughts and feelings on an endless stream of subjects. People I laughed with, worried about, and prayed for. And I don't want that to end. But, I finally realized that I don't have to end my friendships with the end of my journal. And so I won't ... end my friendships, that is. As for the journal, well ..... I think I need a break. Maybe a long one. I'm not sure if I will be back or not. I'm hoping that after getting away from it for a bit, I will be inspired to come back and start anew. We shall see.

I started this journal almost three years ago. It's been a great experience. And I hope that, one day, it will be that again. Until then, I think I will just put down the pen, so to speak, and wait until I feel that inspiration come back around. I think it might. I hope it will.

Thanks so very much for Riding Along With Me.

Wed, 14 Feb 2007 09:03:56 GMT

~ HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY TO YOU ! ~

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in
my heart) i am never without it (anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate (for you are my fate,my sweet) i want
no world (for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)

e.e. cummings

ISN'T IT ROMANTIC ?

Wed, 07 Feb 2007 20:19:55 GMT

Honestly, have you ever seen anything more touching than this? Who would have thought that a pile of bones could inspire such feeling? I have been staring at this photograph since the Big Guy forwarded it to me this morning.

Apparently, the embracing couple was found at an archaeological site in Italy, where they had been buried more than 5,000 years ago. The woman who led the excavation said that she was astonished at the find ... a double burial ... which is thought to be extremely unusual during that period of time.

I don't know if it's unusual, I just know that it's beautiful. There is something so lovely about the thought that these two people desired to spend eternity wrapped in each other's embrace. Isn't that what we all dream of ... to have that depth of love that causes us to want an eternity in the arms of another human being?

I've seen many romantic images during my life. Lace and hearts, moonlight and tropical beaches, kisses and embraces and romantic gestures. But I have never seen an image that has touched me the way this one has.

What a beautiful ending.

MY CRAPPY DAY *

Wed, 17 Jan 2007 00:15:20 GMT

Since I spent my last two entries getting all mushy, I decided to go for the straight poop in this one. I'm going back to the cold hard realities of life, and share my experience of the previous week. It's not something, I suppose, that a lady should discuss in public.... especially in mixed company. However, I am about to be most un-ladylike, and break both of those rules.

Last week I had a colonoscopy. Actually, a colonoscopy and an endoscopy. The former because my doctor recommends it as a matter of course, after the age of fifty. The latter because I've been having some minor problems with indigestion and the like. He ordered these tests as part of a physical that I had last summer. As you can see, I wasn't in too big a hurry to get around to doing it. Actually, it's more likely that I'll drop dead of a heart attack, given my family history. However, in the past six months I've seen two cases of friends being diagnosed with colon cancer, both when the disease had gotten to an advanced stage. I figured that I'd been given a warning as to what could happen, and decided that I'd be wise to do what the good doctor recommended. So I did.

I'm sure that there are plenty of you out there who have gone through this procedure. For those of you who haven't, I can tell you that the procedure itself is nothing. Seriously, it's a piece of cake. It's probably more stressful to have a tooth filled than to have this done. This is easier. Well, the procedure itself is. The preparation .... that is a whole other story. However, it isn't anywhere near as bad as having colon cancer. I am hoping to keep that in mind in five years, when I have to go through this again.

I'll bet you think you know what I am referring to, when I say that the prep for this whole thing is awful. But you'd be wrong. Yes, drinking those two vile tasting bottles of stuff designed to bring you to a state of true cleanliness isn't pleasant. But the bottles are small, and you do get a few hours reprieve between drinking each of them, so if you can chug the bottle down in one gulp and follow with a can of Coke, or something similarly sweet, you will do fine. After that, it's just a matter of keeping the stuff down until it gets to where it needs to go. Once that happens, you are home free. Kind of. I mean, you are home anyway, if you are smart. Because you don't want to be anywhere that isn't within 20 feet of a bathroom, or you will live to regret it. Butt still, that's not the worst part. ( Unless you aren't home. In which case you will be adding a whole new humiliating dimension to the experience. )

Surprisingly, the thing that I had the toughest time dealing with was the hunger. You can't eat any solid food the entire day before, and up until the time of the procedure. Now, I'm not a breakfast eater, so going all morning and into the afternoon without food has never been a big deal. But by about three p.m., I was starting to feel that sick, anxious, lightheaded feeling that comes with not eating for more than twenty hours. The problem is that at this point, you still have hours and hours to go. Until probably close to noon the next day, if you are lucky enough to schedule yourself to be one of the first patients the next morning. So, I started downing anything and everything liquid that I could think of that had sugar in it.

I'm not one for regular Coke, but I was putting them away like someone whose car had broken down between here and Las Vegas in the middle of summer. Then I moved on to Jello. More water and sugar. Then fruit juice, so I would feel as though I put at least one nutritious thing in my body. By the time the evening rolled around, I felt like a kid who ate too much Halloween candy. Or the way I used to feel when I drank a couple of pots of coffee. I was ready to bounce off the walls .... if I would have had the energy to do so. Unfortunately, with no food in your system for more than twenty four hours, it's tough to have much energy to do anything. I started wondering why this seemed different than when you go without food while you have the flu, or some other illness. Not the same. In that case, you are lying down doing nothing most of the time, and just the thought of food makes you feel sick. The motivation to starve is there. Not so when you trying to go about your normal routine, or something close to it.

The next step is that you can't have anything, meaning not even water, after midnight. Not a drop. This shouldn't be a big deal, as the prep instructions have you drinking eight ounces of liquid every hour, on the hour, the whole day before. But, come midnight, the well runs dry. No drinking of anything until after the procedure. Now, this doesn't sound too bad in theory, but the very fact that water is banned makes you feel desperate to drink some. I found myself lying in bed most of the night thinking about how good water tastes ... and how dry my throat was. Remember, everything you drank the day before has ... how shall I put it ... been 'flushed' from your system. You are as dry as the Sahara. And not a drop to drink. I was becoming obsessed.

So, the next day, I arrived at the outpatient clinic at 7:30 in the morning, sure that at that time, I would get a jump on everyone else, and be the first one up. Not so. The waiting room was packed. And they all looked as exhausted and desperate as I was. So, I waited my turn. Luckily, it wasn't much more than an hour before I heard my name called. Then I literally tossed my belongings at my husband, and ran through the doors. And from there on in, like I said earlier .... piece of cake. I was in and out of there in another hour and a half, and off in my car, scouting the area for the nearest McDonalds drive thru, for the largest Coke I could order. Ahhhh .... the pause that refreshes.

* All puns intended.

GRATIFYING THOUGHTS

Wed, 10 Jan 2007 05:33:04 GMT

Last night, while lying in bed and thinking about things as I often do before nodding off to sleep, my mind wandered back to the comments I received on my last entry. Oftentimes, after checking in here and reading the thoughts left by those who stop by to visit, I carry the memory of their words along with me as I go about my business during the day. When I have a quiet moment in my car, or maybe in line at the supermarket checkstand, they pop into my head again, bringing a smile to my face. I am grateful to know such generous people. I'm sure it's the same way for all of you who share a bit of yourselves in your journal sites, and are blessed with the kind thoughts and warm words of those who stop by to visit.

When you think about it, it's amazing what we can do with our words. We have the power to affect others in a very positive way. We can show each other concern, positive regard, a point of view, or even just share a laugh. We can validate each others feelings, and offer support. On our good days, our fellow journalers comments are a pleasant plus. On days when things are not so great, they can be essential to us as a way of keeping our spirits up until things improve. I can't imagine a more wonderful gift we can bestow on another human being than giving them the boost they might need to make it through another day. And we have all had those days.

As the subject of journal comments was running through my mind, I began to think of what I have learned, experienced and enjoyed since joining this community back in 2004. There isn't room to list everything that comes to mind, but here's a start:

1. The friendship of some wonderfully talented and generous people.

2. The knowledge that there are many loving, caring folks out there in the world.

3. Some fascinating conversations with individuals that I wouldn't have known otherwise.

4. Exposure to many differing opinions and ways of looking at the world.

5. The knowledge that people, although different, share many of the same trials and tribulations.

6. The knowledge that, while we may have very different lifestyles, we all have a common need to share with others in here.

7. That there are people who will take it upon themselves to pitch in and help others in this community, despite the fact that they have never met face to face. In some cases, they didn't even know of the person until a fellow journaler passed along the information. This is an incredible thing to think upon.

8. That the need for personal expression is universal.

9. That everybody is a writer.

10. That we share more similarities than we have differences.

I had no idea, when I joined this community two and a half years ago, of all that I would gain by being here. Thanks, and thanks, and many thanks.

" My friends are my estate" ... Emily Dickinson

IF I COULD CHANGE THE WORLD

Fri, 05 Jan 2007 06:33:07 GMT

I am the worlds biggest 'Mother.' It comes naturally to me, that feeling of wanting to make sure that everybody and everything is okay. I suppose that the correct term would be 'nurturer.' Because my kids aren't the only ones I try to take care of. It extends to everybody and anybody I know. If I know you, or know of you, and all is not right in your world, I want to correct it. I know that this is not possible, but it doesn't prevent me from trying. And I'm becoming more and more frustrated by my inability to fix all the things I see that need fixing.

My kids are used to me being this way. My daughter is twenty nine years old, and I will still ask her why she isn't wearing a sweater when I know it's cold outside. She just laughs and shakes her head, and goes about her business. It wasn't this way when she was a teenager. I couldn't tell that kid anything without her getting annoyed. "Mom ! I'm not a little kid anymore ! " Now she doesn't feel nearly as threatened by it. Matter of fact, I think it makes her feel good that I'm still looking out after her. Same thing with my son. It's hard for me not to say, " Be careful" whenever he leaves the house, after dropping by. He's twenty six ... he knows to be careful. If he didn't, my saying it wouldn't make any difference at this stage of the game. And yet, I persist.

There are a few situations in the lives of those around me that I can't change or make better, despite my desire to do so. This is very frustrating for me. Especially when the circumstances are so unfair. I know, I know ...life isn't fair. But I want it to be. I am a 'take charge' kind of gal. I want to take the serious illness from the person I know who doesn't deserve to be sick. I want to give comfort to the one I know who feels particularly alone at this time of the year. I struggle for just the right thing to say to the friend who feels that life is no longer worth living. If only I could find the words to make a difference. If only.

The truth of the matter is that I am just a human being. And, in the grand scheme of things, a pretty insignificant one at that. But that doesn't stop me from wishing, and hoping, and praying .... and trying to change things for the better. Even just a little bit. Just enough to make a difference. Maybe even a big difference. See .... I can't help myself.

SOME CHRISTMAS THOUGHTS

Sat, 23 Dec 2006 19:40:28 GMT

I spent yesterday as many of you did ... running around after last minute gifts, and hitting the grocery store before the holiday hams were picked through. I was feeling good, knowing that most of the 'to-do's were done, and I was on my way to a nice relaxing few days of time spent with my husband and grown kids.

I drove up the driveway, parked and hopped out of the car to grab the mail from the box. There are always a few last minute cards and letters, and I was anxious to see who was running as late as I was on the holiday greetings this year. Among the various cards was an envelope addressed to my husband and me from a firm in Buffalo, New York. It wasn't a name I recognized, and I thought it odd, as I couldn't imagine why anybody from that area would be sending me anything, especially at this time of year. I knew it wasn't junk mail, as it had full postage on it, and was addressed by hand. Maybe I won a major award? It's that time of year, I said to myself .... that leg lamp could be on its way to my house. I was curious to see what this was all about.

I ran into the house, dropped my bags and packages on the kitchen table, and proceeded to open the envelope. Enclosed was a letter from a law firm,with a one sentence message that read:

Dear Mr. and Mrs. M-- :

It is with deepest sympathy that I write to you to inform you that Tom F-- passed away on --.

Very truly yours, --

Thomas was my father's cousin. My father had just one sibling, a brother who died in World War II, and my grandparents had died years ago. This man was my dad's only living relative. I hadn't seen Thomas since I was a child, living in Toronto. He and my father hadn't been particularly close, but they did keep in touch over the years. And after my father passed away, he continued to write to my mother, which I thought was good of him. She enjoyed getting his letters, as they were a sort of link to my father ... one of the few remaining people who knew him back when.

In the last few years, I started to correspond with this man. I knew that he was a retired college professor of English, and had spent some time, during his retirement, working on our family tree. He had made a number of trips to England, where he attended the family reunions on my father's side. I enjoyed reading about his visits to Leicester and the information he managed to dig up on these trips. I used to laugh with my mother about the fact that we fretted so much about our writing skills when corresponding with him, since he had written college texts on English grammar and usage. Of course, the man was not interested in examining our sentence structure. He just enjoyed our friendly exchanges.

Apparently, the card and letter I sent him this year was forwarded to his attorney's office. He had no family ... he was an only child whose parents had passed away many years ago. He had no children, and his wife had died the previous year. So it made sense that this letter would have been responded to by the party responsible for handling his affairs. But there was something so disconcerting about getting a one sentence letter stating that the man had died almost a year ago, and this was the first I had heard of it. And so matter of fact. No letter, no description of how or why he passed away. No .... he was just gone. That's that.

I could have received this letter at any time during the year, and I would have felt badly that my father's cousin had passed away. But there is something about hearing this sort of news at Christmas time that sets your mind to thinking about the past. And ... about the future. About how many more Christmases you will have to share with your friends and loved ones.

Before my shopping trip this morning, I met for coffee with some friends of mine. One of the gals had moved away about two years ago, and her husband had been ill with cancer for some time. He passed away a few months ago, and this was her first visit back since she had been widowed. She was genuinely happy to see our familiar faces ... the faces of people who had known her for years. Friends who had shared in her joys and sorrows. I could see that she felt good to be surrounded by those of us who knew her husband, and shared her struggle during his years with three bouts of sickness.

All was well until we got up to say our goodbyes. As usual, we hugged and wished each other a Merry Christmas, and told our friend how glad we were to see her back in the fold. Whereupon she burst into sobs, repeatedly saying " It's so hard. It's just sooo hard. You can't imagine." The truth is that all we could do was imagine, since none of us had experienced the loss of a spouse. But we are all aware that none of us is getting any younger. And that one day, many of us will, more than likely, have to experience her sorrow.

This entry isn't meant to be a downer. Rather, it is a reminder, to myself, that at this moment in time I am surrounded by people that I treasure. The ones with whom I have a very precious bond, and a lifetime of shared history . Time passes quickly, and things can change in an instant. I am so grateful, so fortunate to have my husband with me this Christmas. And my children. My mother and brother and sisters. My aunt. And my dear friends. It won't be like this forever. And even though we can't all be celebrating together in the same place this year, I know that for just this moment in time, they are healthy and safe and happy. And that they love me. And I love them. When all is said and done, it's the only thing that really matters. It truly is the best gift.

God Bless you all, and thanks so very much for the gift of your friendship this year. I treasure it. I'm truly a lucky gal !!

BOO DOO BEE DONT

Sun, 10 Dec 2006 08:41:01 GMT

Weekend Assignment #142: Your Christmas/Holiday gift is the ability to expunge one highly annoying yet popular Christmas/Holiday song from the history of the world. Which one is it?

John's latest assignment asks us to name our most un-favorite Christmas song. Well, I love music, and I love Christmas, so it stands to reason that I would like most of the songs of the season. And I do. Except one.

'SANTA BABY'

Ugh. and Ugh again. Every time I hear this song I wince. And feel nauseous. And am embarrassed to be a member of the female sex. If this is what women are supposed to be about at Christmas, than I am moving to Trinidad, Colorado and applying for a sex change.

For starters, the lyrics are dreadful: I want a ring. I want a car. I want a yacht .... I wanna, I Wanna, I WANNA. Awful. The sad truth is that I have known women like this. I once attended a Christmas Eve celebration where a woman pitched a fit because she didn't get a piece of jewelry she felt particularly entitled to. She did everything short of falling to the floor, flailing her arms and holding her breath. When I watched this little display of hysterics, I smiled inwardly, gloating that she wasn't going to get her coveted prize. And then the unspeakable happened. The man in question finally produced said piece of jewelry. Whereupon she jumped up, snatched it from his hands with her grubby little mitts, and danced around the room, showing it off. I wanted to give the guy a lecture about the perils of negative reinforcement. But I have a feeling that he has since learned that lesson on his own.

The other thing that bothers me about this song is the delivery. It seems that no matter who sings it, it is in this artificially whiny, highpitched, ' I'm dumb but I'm real sexy' voice. I don't care what the artist sounds like otherwise, when they sing this one, it's a prerequisite that they attempt to sound brainless and alluring at the same time ( I think that's an oxymoron. Or something. ) This I don't get. I mean, 'boo-doo-bee-doo' ? Pleeeeeze. I can't imagine that many (any?) men would find that sort of thing appealing. What guy would hear this and think that it's a turn-on? Say it isn't so, guys. PLEASE.

Extra Credit: Fruitcake: Ever actually eat any? No .... you don't know where that fruitcake has been.

A VARIATION ON CHRISTMAS

Sat, 02 Dec 2006 07:47:55 GMT

The Thanksgiving turkey has been picked clean, and the pumpkin pie, what was left of it, has been tossed into the trashcan. No more turkey sandwiches, casseroles, or salads. The colorful wreath of Autumn leaves has been replaced by one made of Hollyberries. One holiday down, and one to go.

I have always enjoyed Thanksgiving. But my heart belongs to Christmas. There is something about the season that makes me feel good just thinking about it. Oh, I can do without the gifts. They really aren't necessary for me now, as an adult. That part belongs mostly to the kids. But it's the music, the decorations, the smell of baked goods ... of cinnamon, nutmeg, and allspice wafting through the air, that gets ahold of me.

Christmas in the West isn't quite the Hallmark card holiday that one imagines when they think of this season. Even though snow isn't guaranteed in the rest of the country, there is still that chance that maybe ... just maybe ... it will be a white Christmas. No such luck here. Matter of fact, on our first Christmas back here, after spending the preceeding ten or so in Colorado, we headed to the beach with friends. We were missing the celebrations that we had shared with friends in Denver, where there was always a pretty good chance that we would be shoveling the white stuff on Christmas day. Since there was no chance that we could duplicate that, we decided that we might as well go with what we had. And that's just what we did. We hooked up with our friends who lived near the coast, and together, we packed up a Christmas tree, a CD player, a cooler filled with food, and our kids, and headed for the shore. We set up the tree in the sand, loaded a Beach Boy's Christmas CD into the stereo, and proceeded to celebrate the Southern California way. And we had a great time.

Before that little celebration on the beach, I had always wanted my holiday celebrations to be the way I had them pictured in my mind. The way they usually are in the old Christmas movies. Snow, and stars, and Midnight Mass. Bright-eyed children and rosy cheeks and snowball fights, followed by hot chocolate. The model train circling the tree. Perfectly wrapped packages. Everything in it's place, the way it should be. The problem is, life is not a Hallmark Christmas special. Matter of fact, it's more 'Christmas Vacation.'

After our 'Beach Boys celebration' I realized that I had a choice. I could be stubborn and unhappy, fretting that things weren't the way I had envisioned them to be. The way they were supposed to be. Or .... I could go with the flow. And thank goodness I decided to float along and see where the current took me. Because I ended up at a rather delightful place. A place I hadn't really intended to be, but one that I enjoyed the heck out of, nonetheless.

This Christmas season could be the once-in-a-hundred years or so that the L.A. area gets a dusting of the white stuff. But I doubt it. Or, it could be 85 degrees in the shade. More than likely it will be the typical Southern California winter day .... fifty-five to sixty degrees, gray and overcast. Whatever. It doesn't really matter. After all, no matter what the weather decides to do, I will still be able to listen to my holiday tunes, and enjoy my decorations, and bake a batch of cookies. That doesn't require snow. It just requires a sunny disposition. Here's to a beautiful Holiday season !