Trembling Buns of Stage Fright

yesterday's sunrise. the hanging silverware is part of wind-chime

"In the inner wine cellar 
I drank of my Beloved, and, 
when I went abroad 
Through all this valley 
I no longer knew anything, 
And lost the herd which I was following...
I no longer tend the herd
Nor have I any other work
Now that my every act is love." 
 - St. John of the Cross, on the Journey of the Soul to God by Contemplation, from The Spiritual Canticle

What a beautiful way to see our life's journey! 

"I lost the herd which I was following...now...my every act is love." 

How I would love to live that way! 

The final National Speakers Association Northwest Academy's class presentation went well. I was one of the last in the queue to present, so I got lots of practice in "the art of being present" under pressure. Since my topic was The Art of Healing Presence, that was appropriate!

Have I mentioned that I really do not enjoy public speaking? 

One of the reasons I enrolled in this Academy is that I am increasingly uncomfortable at the podium. Having given speeches to benefit The Moyer Foundation, Seattle Children's Hospital and Camp Goodtimes West (now The Goodtimes Project) in front of hundreds of people, I find it is not getting easier; it is getting more difficult. I thought that studying with professional speakers would help me to get over that.

That's not what happened. I learned that even professional speakers get stage fright, but they learn to manage it - and to manage many of the things which give rise to fear about taking the stage, such as mechanical glitches, unexpected problems with venue, etc. 

My greatest fear is that I might go completely blank, mentally, forgetting what I mean to say in the midst of saying it. I have to use notes. This is one of the reasons I went to the effort of creating a video a while ago. My topic is very dear to my heart, and it contains painful elements; the story is emotional, which makes it hard to repeat in speech after speech. 

Since the video is unusable in its current form (too long, & without a navigable menu), and my relationship with the videographer/editor fell apart a year ago, I found myself with an important message and a broken vehicle. I decided to get out of that vehicle (imagine the video was a car, in a ditch) and get on a bicycle (the bicycle is public speaking). It's far more labor-intensive in every way than showing a video, but I wanted to give it a try, to see if I could grow, improve my skills and share the message in another way.

There is a great deal to learn about the business of public speaking; it's larger and more complex than I imagined. I learned that I am better suited to lead an interactive workshop than I am to give a keynote speech - at least, that's where I am now. I prefer feedback and dialogue to having the entire spotlight on me.

Here's the funny part of the final exam: over the past six years, when I have been invited to speak, I have experienced various symptoms of stage fright. I've had "butterflies" of nervousness, shaking legs and knees, felt like I might faint or be sick - all of which were managed, and, fortunately, not noticeable to the audiences. On Wednesday evening, I experienced a brand-new symptom of stage nerves: my buns trembled uncontrollably. That's right: for the first time ever, I had a shivering derriere. 

It would have been hilarious, if I hadn't been so busy concentrating on my speech, and hoping that no one could see my behind shaking in fear, from the semi-circular seating arrangement in the auditorium. I could certainly feel it! I stood at a table with a lectern on it, so the lectern blocked that part of me; no one noticed, by grace. Here's hoping that the video-camera didn't pick it up!

I gained a great deal from attending the Academy, but (obviously) still have stage fright.

Here is a photo of our group that night, courtesy of facebook:

Our wonderful Dean, Jan McLaughlin, is the one wearing orange. If you ever need customer service training for your business, see Jan at www.yourcommunicationconnection.com

When I got up the next morning, God was showing His artistic flair. The sunrise progressed from the photo above, to this

to this (these photos were not retouched):

What a gift! The beauty of nature lifts the heart; thanks be to God for the glory of His creation! 

I have recently been in touch with some professors who have invited me to speak to their medical students, and am so looking forward to the opportunity to share with them what I've learned because of Katie (and from my classes in the Academy). I pray to go forth from here, now a bit better equipped to serve, so that "my every act is love"...even if I go with trembling buns.

Bear Necessities

Photo from http://wdfw.wa.gov/living/bears.html

I should be doing homework. I should be writing elsewhere, but I know that "shoulds" do not enliven the arts, and if I am going to write, I need to follow my muse, wherever she alights. I've had this post in mind ever since I received the recent email from our dear, hardworking block watch captain ("BWC") on the subject of bears. Black bears, to be precise, which have been recently sighted on our street.

We live in the county, a few miles from town, and are surrounded by evergreen trees (hence the nickname, "The Evergreen State"), as well as deciduous, and lots of berry bushes gone wild - strawberries, salmon berries, thimble berries, huckleberries and the ever-present, impossible-to-kill blackberries. The most common local type is called Himalayan, and the canes basically amount to Mother Nature's barbed-wire fence.

Yours, truly

The thorns are razor-sharp and tenacious; Gregg still has visible scars from a teenage, shirtless fall off of a rope swing into a blackberry patch. Years ago, on a berry-picking outing, my mother punctured an artery in her leg on a blackberry thorn without ever feeling it; the culprit snapped off and stuck in the wound, only to fall out days later. I'd never seen so much blood, and was terrified at the sight; true respect for the strength of the thorn was born on that day. We've all had our clothes torn and stained when picking berries for pie, cereal or just a snack. It's part of summer living here.

My brother and sister picking blackberries

Fresh berries are delicious, and we look forward to eating them every summer...and so do bears. In addition to the lure of berries, the local bears are appearing because they suffer from a rapidly diminishing habitat, and the need to share it with deer, foxes, possum, otters (which can be found hiding in ditches by the side of the road, under houses, sneaking onto boats and going back and forth to and from the saltwater). I can see why we have bears, but I wish they weren't in OUR neighborhood.

Our BWC has kindly kept us all in the loop with information about when and where the bears have been seen. One neighbor discovered a bear digging in his garbage can; others have been seen in people's back yards, and David found our garbage can overturned one night, which suggests that one was in our yard without our knowing it. That is too close for my comfort; when I go out to walk, I am on alert. So when I received the BWC's email about bear "etiquette," I was ready to learn the do's and don'ts. Except that they seem contradictory, and impossible to implement.

Here are the instructions; what do you think? My thoughts are highlighted in yellow.

A reminder on how to react to bears:

Make noise when walking or jogging. Bears don't like to be surprised and if they hear you coming they most likely will avoid you. Use a bell on your shoe or walking stick. Headphones are nice when exercising but they reduce your awareness to both mother nature and other humans. Leave them out or at least in just one ear...Bird feeders attract bears. Secure your trash. Prevent attacks by not attracting them...Finally here are some tips from the Washington department of fish and wildlife on what to do If you come face to face with a bear. 

 

If you come in close contact with a bear:

1. Stay calm Really? How? and avoid direct eye contact, which could elicit a charge. No problem; I wouldn't want to "eyeball" a bear. Try to stay upwind What is upwind, and how would I figure that out in the critical moment when I find myself face to face with a bear? and identify yourself as a human by standing up, talking and waving your hands above your head. I cannot imagine myself waving and talking to a bear; I can see myself screaming and running from a bear.
2. Do not approach the bear, particularly if cubs are present. Give the bear plenty of room. No problem; you have my word that I will never voluntarily approach a bear, particularly a mama bear.
3. If you cannot safely I love seeing that word ("safely") in this sentence move away from the bear, and the animal does not flee, try to scare it away by clapping your hands or yelling. I am 5'1" tall. Would clapping or yelling make me appear scary? Let's hope so.
4. If the bear attacks, fight back aggressively. FIGHT A BEAR AGGRESSIVELY?  As a last resort, should the attack continue, protect yourself by curling into a ball or lying on the ground on your stomach and playing dead. That, I could do.

Go to this website for more information 

http://wdfw.wa.gov/living/bears.html#attacks 

I have to say that, though I did appreciate our BWC sending along this advice, all I could think when reading it was. If I met a bear, I would be able to do only two things: scream and run - exactly what the etiquette says not to do. But I think I am going to get a whistle as soon as possible.

Goodbye, August - Hello, September

Although it's always difficult to say "goodbye" to the summer months, I can honestly bid adieu to August without a problem. There were so many emotional ups and downs that it was exhausting. Hello, September!

We did have a good deal of fun last month, though, and I'll highlight that here, with gratitude. We were blessed with a beautiful vacation, a party to celebrate an important family milestone, visits from friends from out of town, time spent savoring the beauty of nature (particularly at the beach) and the beginning of some fun projects.

Gregg and I went on a date last weekend, starting with a walk, and discovered a mural which we didn't know existed on Bainbridge Island. It is a timeline of events in the history of the island. Here is an excerpt from it:

This image shows the traditional (native) names of areas of the island.

Prior to 1700, Bainbridge Island was the home of the Suquamish tribe. One part of the mural states that "hundreds of middens found along Bainbridge Island's shoreline indicate that humans have lived here for at least 5,000 years." No wonder archaeology sounded like a fun subject to study in college - we are surrounded by human history right here!

You might recall that I've posted in the past about the glass trading beads we have found in the area since I was a little girl. My favorite part of the mural told about them:

I am grateful to have a small collection of these remaining - I lost most of the ones I found while growing up.

It was a fun and educational stop on our walk. We moved on to eat a light supper at the pub, and afterward, walked outside to see the light of the sunset reflected in the sky above the masts in the marina, silhouetted against the backdrop of Seattle across the Sound. The last roses of summer are in the foreground.

Another August activity: we repaired a sign that is precious, given to us by friends 5 years ago:

It says, "The angels are always near to those who are grieving, to whisper to them that their loved ones are safe in the hand of God."

And we saw some signs that made us laugh:

If you found an iguana, how would you describe it? How many lost iguanas do you think there are in Western Washington?

Loved this one - seen in Tofino, B.C.

Moving into September, we took a gorgeous beach walk and saw another humorous sign:

I think it originally said, you may "encounter" nude sunbathers

We took a walk in this "secret garden" park, one to which we used to love to take our children:

You can see the size of those leaves in perspective with the bridge and pathway next to them - enormous!

And finally, inspired by Meg of the "whatever" blog, I started work on a thrift-shop table which has been sitting in our garage for years. Meg is a devoted thrift-shopper and spray-painter, among her MANY other talents, and she inspired me to make this battered old thing into the "beach style" table I have dreamed about.

Step 1:  remember to take a "before" photo (I forgot)

Step 2:  spray 'till your heart's content

One can of aqua paint, an old table and old shower curtain...

Doesn't this table have beautiful lines? I love its form.

Step 3:  lay out beach glass in the way you want it to look on the table.

Step 4:  put the glass in place permanently with mortar

Step 5:  to come:  grout!

We also worked on re-finishing our picnic tables, and discussed re-finishing the 5 chairs which we picked up for $30 (all 5 for $30.00!) at a garage sale a couple of weeks ago...I love the creative energy in working on crafts, especially when they beautify the home.

Bye-bye, August...welcome, September & "Indian summer!"

The Good Deal and The Bad Deal

When I was living in my parents' home with my siblings, my father invented what he called "The Good Deal and The Bad Deal." Just writing that makes me smile. You may have read about my father's sense of humor here, and his very direct, dramatic, energetic personality. For example, you might recall the story of the time when I was a senior in high school and had done something that made him very angry. After telling me in no uncertain terms how furious he was, my father's way of delivering my punishment - taking away my driving privileges - was shouting, "You're a PEDESTRIAN!" Even in great anger, he could be witty and funny.

My dad has always had a great sense of humor

I'm the youngest of three - my sister Debbie is five years older than I am, and my brother Jim is three years older. I learned a great deal by watching them...watching what worked, what didn't work, what my parents would tolerate and what they would not accept. I observed the way my parents corrected us and disciplined us, what their standards were and how they responded if one of us fell short. I had an advantage in being able to watch the older two - and the advantage of their work of "breaking in" my parents.

By the time I was in my teens, my parents had figured out a lot of things; they had developed some calm in regards to certain teen behavior which had, at first, created some panic and major reactions in them. So I daresay it was much easier to be their 3rd child than their first - but isn't this true in many families? We learn parenting from our own parents - whether we like what they did or not - and mainly by doing it ourselves; many times, we learn by "doing it wrong."

When my brother and sister were deep into their teens, there was some conflict over the expectations in our home, and the way my parents felt they were being treated. In light of all that they did for us, and the teachings of the commandment, "Honor thy father and thy mother...," as well as their desire to raise courteous and respectful people, my parents held certain standards; at the time, these were not being met by the three of us.

My father, with a huge sense of humor and a deep sense of responsibility for his family, came up with a choice for us: The Good Deal or The Bad Deal. He and my mother obviously had a clear idea of which one they wanted us to choose, but they did allow us the choice.

Debbie, Jim and me, a few years after the Good Deal/Bad Deal offer

The Good Deal meant doing what my parents asked of us, including chores in the house and garden, following rules, helping out, upholding the family's standards. The rewards for that were total support, a great place to live, money for expenses, freedom to use the family cars, paid vacations, special privileges and treats, etc. A very "good deal," indeed.

The house where I grew up

This was actually a vehicle for work (my dad was a salesman with several states to cover), but it could also whisk you away for something special

The Bad Deal meant that you had more leeway to do things your own way, had fewer chores and expectations - but you were on your own financially. In-home services were reduced. You worked (elsewhere), and paid your own way.

My sister and I immediately opted for The Good Deal. My brother decided to try The Bad Deal. My father and mother stood back and waited.

My brother came back to ask for The Good Deal a short time later.

My family at the time of my first marriage

Why am I sharing these memories with you? Because I recently recalled the Good Deal/Bad Deal when facing a "parenting moment" with our own 19-year old son. I admired anew my father's creativity, ingenuity, humor and wisdom, and my mother's ability to flex with him. I am blessed to be their daughter, to be part of this legacy, and to be able to pass some of it along to our son...whether or not David appreciates that at this point in his life!

By the way: is it just me, or can anyone else see the family resemblance?

David in 2011

My dad in the 1960s

Note to Mich (Daisy): yes, David has a great sense of humor!

The Morals of Today (& Yesterday)

Having a college student return home for the summer is a kind of like a cultural exchange program. A person comes to live in your home whom you know, but you sort of don't know. Things have changed between the time you dropped him off at school in September and the time he arrives home in May; events have occurred for which you were not present, of which you haven't been informed - which is just as well, judging from some things I've seen on facebook. Not my son's facebook page, specifically, but facebook in general!

I am friends with our son on facebook, but I'm not allowed to comment or tag him in photos or postings. He set the ground rules. I'm fortunate to be his friend on facebook, from what I understand; not all parents are allowed to do this. I abide by the rules he set so that we can remain friends in that forum.

David has found some of our rules at home to be a bit uncomfortable, after being away at college. I recall the same feeling, returning from college in Southern California to my parents' home in Washington. I couldn't understand why they cared what time I came home at night, for example. I was away all year, self-regulating, and answering to no one. Why should I have to consider their rules over the summer?

Because I am their daughter and was living in their house, that's why.

Cara, Phil & David hiking

David and I were discussing the difference between the way things are today and the way they were when I was his age. I admit to being a bit old-fashioned; I have a little bit of the Victorian, romantic and idealist in me. Dinosaur? I think not. Modern? Possibly not all that, either.

Anyway, I was discussing this with David, and the conversation went something like this:
Me: I just want you to be a man of honor, a man of integrity, a gentleman. You know, we named you after King David in the Bible, a noble man with a heart for God.
David:  You mean the guy who stole someone's wife, and had him killed so that he could keep the wife?
Me:  Well, yes...I mean, no - well, yes, he did that, but he repented! He was also a poet, a musician, a man of valor, and he had a huge heart for God...
David:  Yes, he repented AFTER he did the other things.
Me:  Yes, that's true, but...um...oh...

I just put my foot in my mouth and proved a point I didn't mean to prove. You can quote the Bible to support just about any point of view, by the way. It's a big book, full of the truth of human nature! (And I'm not suggesting that David was advocating adultery and murder; he was just following the trajectory of the argument.)

Possible Morals of this story: 
*Talking can get you into a lot of trouble. The Norwegians are mostly silent for a reason; we French/Germans have a lot to learn from them.
*King David is still a wonderful role model in many ways.
*Old fashioned mores are not bad.
*Loving and allowing people to make their own choices (and allowing them to deal with the consequences) is probably the only (albeit uncomfortable) way to go, at this point.
*Parents have a lot to learn, always.

"Do to others whatever you would have them do to you.
This is the Law and the Prophets." - Matthew 7

Girl Talk

Well, I could call it "female talk." It's about "the change," as in "change of life." Did I lose some of you, just by saying that? Do you dislike those euphemisms as much as I do? They're so weak. Yet I don't want this blog to rev up any oddball search engines, so it's euphemisms or ****.

I'm going through the change, full-on these days. I thought that I started the process back in October of 2001 when I had surgery. It turns out that that was just a tiny bit of what was in store for me...now, this is the real thing. I won't bore you with all of the symptoms, but I do want to tell you that hot flashes are not for sissies.

It's as if the devil has taken up residence inside of one and poured oil and gas on the fire - and people - those of you who are still reading - this woman is almost ALWAYS cold. The sensation is a kind of instant flash-flood of heat that awakens one in the middle of the night, or causes one to literally soak one's clothes with sweat for no apparent reason, at random moments during the day. Even your face and scalp are not exempt. And then a few minutes later, it's back to normal...except you're wiped out and wondering, What just happened here?

I experienced this last week as never before. Listening to a talk in the packed-to-the-aisles cathedral, I became drenched, and simply HAD to fan myself as surreptitiously as possible with a program. The sweet young man sitting next to me gently took over, fanning me with HIS program, and saying, "You're making yourself hotter by doing that." It was so chivalrous of him. He tenderly inquired how I was feeling when the talk was over. I was fine, by then - embarrassed, but back to my normal temperature.

If we could harness these sudden bursts of energy, I wonder what we could do with them. Scientists, any ideas?

My mother has been advising me to see my doctor about it, but it's such a normal part of the process of menopause that I didn't want to consult my doctor - and I don't want to take hormones. So when Laura & I were in Portland visiting the Super Supplements store, I asked a staff member about natural remedies, and lo and behold, an item I've heard about was recommended. It sounds like something that belongs in a witch's cauldron - black cohash - but I tried it, and it helped IMMEDIATELY. As in, the first day I took it, I felt better and have had only one or two flashes per day since I started taking it last week. So far, so good!

I will tell my doctor about this eventually, but for now, sweet relief in an herbal remedy is the good news here. I also found some great nutritional supplements and learned more about what Laura has discovered. Check out her "Live Healthy" blog on my sidebar if you're interested.

*****

On a totally unrelated subject, last week Gregg and I took a walk through our town. I love the fact that Gregg and his parents grew up here, before I even knew they existed. We were walking past the Lion's Park where our children loved to play when they were little, and we stopped to use the "facilities" (another useful euphemism).

The park needed an update a number of years ago, so the town launched a campaign in which you could go to the local pottery-painting studio (The Dancing Brush) and buy a tile to help raise funds. Townspeople were invited to make their handprints and write their names on the tiles. We bought two - one for David and one for Katie - and I re-discovered them on the wall last week.

I love knowing that both of our children have signs of their presence around our town.

Fig Leaves and Mixed Metaphors

I call Gregg "The King of the Mixed Metaphor." Over the weekend, he said one of the funniest, so far.

Andrea & Mike have a yellow labrador retriever named Sam, who is super-loving and enthusiastic. He's still a puppy, and I can tell he's going to be HUGE. They also have a seven-year old dog named Lena. Lena was adopted as an older dog, and she is a bit touchy. One day a while back, she snapped at Gregg. He has given her a wide berth ever since.

On our way up to Bellingham, Gregg informed me that he was not going to "extend the fig leaf" to Lena. I said, "I think you mean the olive branch. A fig leaf is what you use to cover your private parts; the olive branch is what you extend when you want to make peace." We both laughed until we were nearly incapacitated.

I love that guy. He is very entertaining.

Kiwanis

Today, I got up at about 4:30 a.m. (Don't be impressed - my husband gets up earlier that that, five days a week - now, that's impressive.) I got up early today because I was going to address a Kiwanis meeting at 7:00 a.m., and I wanted to spend some quiet time with God and a cup of coffee, before starting the shower-and-dress sequence.

In case you were wondering, it is not getting easier for me to speak in front of groups; it is getting more difficult. I do not know why this is so. Once I'm up and speaking, I am fine, but I have more anxiety beforehand now, than ever. It's ironic. Paging Dr. Freud...but what I mean to say is that I need to pray before I speak now, more than ever. So I was doing that as I got ready. And wondering why I said "Yes," yet again, to a speaking request, and praying.

This was my first Kiwanis meeting, ever. They are a philanthropic group of businesspeople, and their focus is largely benefiting children. I had prepared a Powerpoint presentation about Katie's Comforters Guild, and then prepared some remarks about the new Center for Childhood Cancer and Dr. Mike Jensen's work at Seattle Children's Hospital. They are a very kind, funny, informal group here in our town.

It "just happened" that the Kiwanis' Lieutenant Governor for our area was present at the meeting, announcing their new, 4-year initiative to support Pediatric Cancer Research! HELLO! How's that for perfect timing? And it was NOT planned - it was a surprise to the Kiwanis, too. So my information could not have come at a better time. I learned about their work, and the generous gifts that they have already made to hospitals - including blankets! It was a great experience. They treated me to breakfast (Thank you, Renee) and gave me a Kiwanis lapel pin. Thank you for the warm welcome, Kiwanis Club of Poulsbo!

One of my favorite moments came after I had finished my presentation, and sat down again at the table. A long-time friend of Gregg's, who was our dentist when the children were very young, was present. He and I chatted a bit, and I remembered one of my favorite Katie stories, in which he is a central character.

Katie and I were in side-by-side cubicles in the dentist's office, having our teeth cleaned. Dr. Hoover was examining Katie's teeth, as the hygenist was cleaning mine in the cubey next-door. I could imagine her reclining in the comfy chair, looking up at him as he examined her mouth, and I heard her little-girl voice say, "Dr. Nostril - I mean, Dr. HOOVER?"

I laughed so hard I cried, and accidentally bit the hygenist who was cleaning my teeth. He has been "Dr. Nostril" to our family ever since. I reminded him of this today, and we had a good laugh about it again. Ahh, Katie. She brought so much fun into our lives, just by being herself.

Hiking Mt. Catherine

A few weeks ago, we went for a day hike in the Cascade Mountains with my brother, Jim, and sister-in-law, Caroline. It was a short and steep hike up Mt. Catherine. Though I tend to prefer beach hikes, this one was a great family outing, and it's very pretty.

Jim brought his camera, and David took a photo of us (the older generation) at the summit.

Can you see the family resemblance between Jim and me?

 Of course you can.

This is the "official last week of summer" at our house. I hope you enjoy yours!

Early Morning Cat Cuddles

Here is some cuteness that Gregg discovered today - as he often does, but hasn't caught with the camera before - around 4:15 A.M., when he was getting ready to go out the door to work.

I swear they are smiling at him!

Not sure what they're thinking here, but maybe something like, 

"Turn that light off!"

You can see that we do have TWO cat beds...

but apparently, it's much cozier to cuddle.

Gas - a "Seinfeld" Moment

I felt - for a moment - this morning as if I was in the middle of a Seinfeld episode.

We have been having issues with our propane supplier. You know propane, not oil or "natural gas," but the colorless, odorless fuel (it's an additive that gives the gas that smell, and you're supposed to call "this number" if you smell it - it means you have a leak!). Our furnace, cooktop and clothes dryer all run on propane fuel. When we built our house, propane was MUCH cheaper than oil. We thought we were making a wise budgetary decision. Well, propane has increased in price, again and again over the past 10 years, so that it can cost more than a gallon of auto fuel. SURPRISE! Put that into your household budget, please.

The prices and the frequency of delivery have made me question our supplier's business plan. (You may recall that I chased the driver out of our yard last year, when he came to refill our 500 gallon tank, after a particularly LARGE bill had just been paid. I believe I yelled something like, "You need to leave - don't even unroll that hose! We don't need any more propane! You were just here! I can't afford to pay you $1,200 a month!" - something like that.)

I called customer service and requested a recap of our past two years' usage and billing. I got some flack from H**** in the H******** office. I asked for her supervisor, and was advised to call the main office. I called the main office. I was given excellent customer service by A***. And just recently, the General Manager phoned to ask me about the phone call with H****.

Now, to me, that is impressive. It takes guts to call a customer who you know is unhappy, and to ask just what she is unhappy about - to be willing to walk right into it with her. Mr. GM was willing, and today, we had that discussion. It was very enlightening, and I left the call feeling much better about his company. Our "gas relationship" is on solid footing, now (pun intended).

The "Seinfeld" part was when I decided to give him some customer feedback. I told him, in effect, "Look: you sell an invisible product. It's a colorless, odorless gas. It goes into our tank, and then - invisibly - into our appliances, and we use it. Then you show up to replace it, and charge us for it." I could just see Jerry Seinfeld doing a riff onstage about the purchase of an expensive, invisible, soundless, odorless product: "You have competitors. You need a face to go with your invisible product. You need a face for your gas."

It just struck me funny, at the time.

Soft Kitty

I wasn't going to share this here, because it's embarrassing, but Gregg thinks it's funny. He said I should post it, so here you go.

I've been sick since last Thursday. It started as a cold, but the other night - around midnight - my stomach got invloved, and I spend an hour or so on the bathroom floor, waiting for whatever it was to pass.

I don't tend to get "sick to my stomach," but when I feel as if I will, it kind of freaks me out. I think the last time it actually happened was in 1988 or so. Not kidding. Our kids didn't do it much, either, until Katie had chemo.

As I was lying on the floor in the wee hours of the night, I tried to stay calm. I reminded myself of all of the times that Katie had been sick from chemo, and how brave she was. I told myself that I handled it then, and that I could handle it now. I remembered what comforted her. I tried to think of lots of calming things -anything but food - and just tried to get comfortable on the floor. Eventually, I remembered a clip from one of my favorite comedy shows, The Big Bang Theory.

In case you are not familiar with it, there's a character in the show named Sheldon who is a genius at science, but a moron at human relations. The actor who plays him is hilarious. In the scene that I recalled, Sheldon is helping his neighbor, Penny, into bed after she comes home from the hospital. She asks him to sing a song to her that Sheldon's mother used to sing to him when he was sick. That image is what calmed me down and made me smile on the bathroom floor. After a while, my nausea passed, and I went back to bed and fell asleep. I'm still sick today, but (thankfully!) not nauseous.

For those of you who are still reading, here is a link to the clip of "Soft Kitty" that made me feel better. The clip above is another version of the song with the same two actors.

The Big Red Button

I've told so many people about this image in my mind that I decided to create it and post it here for you. (I'm pretty sure there is some reason I'm not supposed to do this, since it's STAPLES' image for their advertisements, so I'm giving them credit right here and now for the original.) This is adapted from STAPLES' big red button.

The edited version is my idea.

When I hear things that are clearly bulls**t, or when I am with someone whose company I can barely tolerate, I now see this button in my mind's eye.

I push it, and it makes a sound that has no word to describe it. "Beep!" is as close as I can get, but it's far more gutteral and dismissive than that.

Once that button is pushed, a trap door opens up below the person, and away they go - at least, in my mind's eye.

It's very satisfying.

I felt the need to share that with you. Feel free to use it, when necessary.

Silliness

This post is pure silliness.

When I was young, I used to love checking out joke books and books of limericks from the elementary school library. I loved to read them to my family and hear their responses...especially hearing them laugh. Sometimes, my parents would recall an old limerick that they knew, and teach it to me.

When I became a teen, my sense of humor continued to grow, especially along the lines of wordplay. My brother and I share a love of good movie dialogue. We still recite our favorite lines to each other. We found some silly poems when we were teens and used to recite them to make each other laugh. David and Katie used to do the same thing together.

Yesterday, David came home from school and told me that one of his teachers had read some funny poetry aloud to the class. He found a website and started to read them to me.

They were some of the same ones that I had loved as a teenager.

I laughed until I cried.

The site of the poems that made me laugh is HERE. There are lots of others there, as well. I'm sure you serious types can find something to suit you, but I want to offer the silly ones to the rest of you! Mason Williams ROCKS.

How 'bout them moose goosers? How 'bout them doodle dashers? Anyone?

Wishing you a day with laughter in it!

* Check out the new posting on Katie's Comforters Guild 's blog*

Employee or Customer?

You know your life has become a bit odd when you are mistaken for an employee at the funeral home...while you wait for your daughter's ashes to be re-packaged and returned to you.

The other day, I took a beautiful, new wooden box to the funeral home, so that they could put some of Katie's ashes in it. The box is made by Demdaco, the company which makes the Willow Tree line of products. I have a few of their figurines; though I'm not a "knick-knack" collector, some of their figurines are very beautiful (and symbolic).

My friend, Angela, gave me an ornament which I like so much that I bought this box with the same image on it. If you are wondering why I chose mother and daughter, instead of an image representing our family of four, it's because Gregg and David do not feel the need to keep Katie's ashes...so I chose a container that has special significance for me.

I was also able to bring home the little metal, heart-shaped urn that I wrote about here. It has a small amount of Katie's ashes in it; here is a photo of it, in my hand.

Katie had green eyes, and I see butterflies as a reminder of her spirit's presence with me, so I liked this. 

While I waited in a little conference room for the funeral director to take care of these "transfers" in his office, a woman came into the building in a hurry, and began to question me about her husband's remains. She stated in a rapid-fire manner that something had been forgotten, and the owner had promised to have them ready for her.
I was so stunned to be mistaken for an employee that I just stared at her for a moment, and then I said, "I do not work here; I'm a client."
She seemed confused, and continued to tell me what she needed.
I then told her that the owner was in his office, taking care of my family member's remains, and that he would be back soon.


I've been mistaken for an employee before, but this is the oddest place it's happened, so far.

On a lighter note, I've been working on mocking up a new website for Katie's Comforters Guild. Since I didn't like the wordpress version, and I don't know how to design a web page, I used a blogger template. Aside from the fact that it's a vertical format (I want a horizontal one, with a drop-down menu), I was able to put a lot of basic content into it yesterday. This will make it easier for our web designer to see what I am trying to tell him.

David is at home, in bed, with what looks like the flu, so I am pampering him, and he's getting lots of rest. Chicken soup, medicine, jello, fruit, hand sanitizer, 7-Up, crackers, repeat. I hope you have a healthy weekend!

I Can't Stop Singing This Song

I can't stop singing this song...I have nothing against UAL (some of my friends work there), but the story is so well told here, and the tune is so catchy...