Jack Lalane, Where are You?

The New Year will arrive within the hour and it surely is party time around here. Last night we made our last trip to the hospital for 2011 and found out that Bob has cellulitis on his leg. He hit his calf (and other things) when he dueled (and lost) with our front stoop on Christmas day. He’s on some medicine that knocks him out for about four hours each time he takes it. Since he is supposed to take it four times each day, I haven’t seen a lot of the dear boy today.

So I’m not really ringing in the New Year at some glitzy party or surrounded with drunks. My faithful pooch lies next to me, but that’s it for this Saturday night. I’m starting to hear the fireworks from people excited about the possibilities of starting over with a new year.

It’s amusing how we think some things will automatically be altered with the flip of a calendar page. (Really, you have to take an old one off and put the new one up if you have one already. Now these online calendars lose the thrill of a blank calendar.)

People make all sorts of resolutions as the New Year approaches. Many expect to be turned into Jack Lalane. (I wonder how many readers have no idea to whom I am referring.) We’ll go to work and get a raise, our husbands will automatically be transformed into a Casanova who does dishes and toilets. The kids will have “normal” hair and clothes and anxiously await our every word. You suddenly have so much free time now that your home is neatly organized and four extra rooms were added. Of course, you have jetted off to Paris or Rome so you don’t deeply care about the kids, home or hubby. Ahhhhhh. Life is good.

By noon tomorrow, many resolutions have already been broken. Your spouse and children look pretty much the same and the laundry has taken over the upstairs. Forget losing weight. Lock yourself in the bathroom with that tin of leftover Christmas cookies. Ahhhhhhh. Life is good.

I read on the Internet today, or more precisely Facebook, that many people are looking at Focus Words to sum up 2011 and dream for 2012. What would your word be? I pondered over different possibilities: wealth, health, prosperity, romance, excitement, dreams and respect. I think I would pick “serenity” for 2012. With serenity, I am not worried while I wait in some ER. My daughter’s family would continue to thrive out in Connecticut. My friends would only be a phone call away. All bills would be paid without that gasp and cringe from this past 2011. I dream of keeping this same feeling of alone time with my Christmas tree as it glitters and shines. I’ve the comfort of an old sweatshirt and the ease of this broken down couch. I can call out to my husband upstairs or umpteen people just a phone call away. (My husband probably wouldn’t hear me, but I could still call out!) Yep! Serenity! May we both be blessed with serenity in this fabulous year about to begin. Happy New Year. May your life continue to be good.

God Uses My Chronic Pain to Prove that Life is Good:

     -  I no longer need the material things to prosper in a new year. I just need God, my friends and family and this goofy little blog. Life is good!

Miss Pacifist Goes on a Vendetta

It’s one of those lazy days when I lack energy even more than normal. Although the temperature is warmer than expected for a late December day, the sun has continued to avoid exposure. It would be lovely to see any rays of sun even begin to peek through the clouds, but that is not the case for today. Instead, the constant drizzle marks the air and sends that damp feeling to my goofy bones.

I have a huge admission to make pertaining to addiction. Some friends and family have been concerned about my use of narcotics. Now, their use by me is basically nonexistent. This new addiction pertains to a Christmas gift I found under my tree, so technically Bob is partially to blame.

I’m the lucky recipient of a Kindle Fire. This amazing little device has almost all of the abilities of a much more expensive IPad. My Fire allows me to store multiple apps besides the expected library of books. I also can go online, save music and pictures and gather a stockpile of newspapers. My person Armageddon is Angry Birds.

There is no reasonable explanation for a supposed educated woman to devote so much time attempting to crush small green frogs by catapulting a variety of colored birds in their direction. Each game is quick with perhaps four attempts per turn. One automatically thinks just one more turn will squash those little devils.  Now this makes no sense for the amount of time I have spent hovered over my new Fire in a psychological frenzy.

Both my husband and daughter had previously played this wild app on their telephones when bored and want to pass time, but they have never reached  addicted status. I have seen this game before but was not interested in another virtual onslaught of one’s time. Looking at this goofy scene on a small screen did not interest me, but now on Kindle Fire – I’m in big trouble.

Please inform me of any organization that deals with individuals with similar problems. The crazy part is that I know this is a waste of time, but it seems to just call for me. There is no expense since I don’t add ay accessories. I just use a simple slingshot to aim for smiling pigs accused of destroying eggs. Little Miss Pacifist has been transformed into a raging idiot seeking revenge while on a virtual vendetta. What in the world?

But this is a way for me to pass my time. I am able to play to my heart’s content with the serene beauty of my glowing Christmas tree right next to me. Quiet music sets a serene setting while I demolish boards and bricks belonging to those frogs.

I’ve probably spent too much time typing, but I will do my best to classify this time as a physical exercise routine for my fingers. Do you buy that? Watch out little frogs! I’m out to get you.

God Uses My Chronic Pain to Prove that Life is Good:

     -  I’ve got the time to waste on continuing the feud between frogs and birds.

The Corpulent Sloth

I’m enjoying the holidays in my own special style, slowly. I’ve never been known for my amazing speed and fast dashes throughout my life. I’m more at the snail momentum or probably closer to the sluggish sloth. Part of my leisurely fashion can be blamed on my age and health concerns. A more accurate guilty reason is my weight. I admit it. You can call me plump, chubby, stout, portly, or corpulent.  That’s my category.

Of course, I have done my best to avoid the “fat” word. I wear extra-large tops for others to assume that a 120-pound body was underneath all that fabric. I wore long necklaces to elongate my frame. OK, I was a long, fat person. My hair supposedly framed my face to flatter its shape, which was round or fat. I admit it!

I recently joined Weight Watchers and am proudly proclaiming that I have finally lost 10.4 pounds. WOW! I’m sure my friends will gawk at my new frame. I’m worried that this recent change could actually cause automobile accidents. Can you imagine - a whole 10.4 pounds?

I love watching people practically undress for their weekly weigh in. Shoes and coats scatter the floor. All jewelry is stashed away. I have even gotten my haircut and shaved my legs; the latter may be the instigator of that 10.4 pounds. I don’t wear any make-up or deodorant. Every little thing could count.

But I just walked by the mirror on our hall tree and determined that I look the same. Those rolls of blubber that serve as a belt for me still circle my frame. I have lost my neck to only replace it with additional chins. Some people are accused of having a double chin. Mine is past that and moving on to octuple chins. At least I am still in single digits.

So wish me luck in my continued weight loss. Provide me encouragement to ignore those Christmas cookies that have magnetic capabilities. I’ve stopped clinging to the refrigerator because my body ached after 78 consecutive hours. I can do this! I’ve lost 10.4 pounds and only have 533 more to go. Life is good!

God Uses My Chronic Pain to Prove that Life is Good:

     -  I am too slow to indulge in some of those frozen goodies stocked in the freezer without them melting in my hand before I make it to the couch.

I Believe in Christmas

While I am visiting my daughter, I treasure our moments at her church. She attends St. Luke’s Lutheran Church in Gales Ferry, Connecticut. I love to see familiar faces that have woven a place in her heart and impacted the Christian beliefs of my grandsons. They have helped cradle her spirit and grow to become the loving wife and mother that she has become. A Christmas memory must deeply etched in my heart this year is of their family blowing out Advent candle number four and announcing “Happy Birthday Jesus!”

Stephanie shared with me a special Christmas “creed” used by her church on Christmas day. What power lies in these special words. I’m honored to share them with you.

I believe in Christmas. I believe that God continues to work in my life today through this story of Christ's birth so long ago. 

I am a shepherd, startled to hear the good news of the angels, but eager to go and see for myself. 

I am Mary, aware that somehow God is using me to accomplish things too big to imagine. 

I am Joseph, not understanding fully that which God calls me to do, but following as faithfully as I can.

I am the innkeeper, busy and frazzled, but making some room, somehow for God to be born.

I am the wise man, on a journey of discovery, bearing my gift to be given to glorify God.

And yes, I am the angel, proclaiming in my own life, the glorious good news that God has come into the world and we shall never be the same.

I can’t write anything more special than that! God bless everyone! Life is good!

I’m Blessed to Have God Use My Chronic Pain to Prove Life is Good:

     -  I get more time to worship in new places with new friends.

It Helps Being a Cubs Fan

Well, Christmas has almost officially drawn to a close and by the looks around my home, it has been another day filled with gluttony and greed. A Kindle Fire sits next to me about to further addict my feeble mind. Tell me why a grown woman with two masters would have any interest in using a virtual slingshot in the attempts to injure some green pigs. Why? I’ve already installed more apps than I could possibly ever use, but it gives me a sense of pride to have them all lined so neatly in a row.

I also got more jewelry to add to my Pandora collection. Once again, here is a symbol of straight greed. The jewelry won’t help feed my family or warm our home. World hunger and cancer still afflict our world, but I am still thrilled with my new beads.

Bob did quite well with new clothing items following a very determined lesson by our daughter. There is no glitter or glitz. Good job. I have two plain scarves that literally surround my neck as I type.  I pray that I will soon be too thin for my new slacks, but I am losing weight slower than our sea cucumber traverses our big tank.

I can see from where I am sitting our hall door stocked with holiday greetings from family and friends. This year, about half are pictures of cute families grinning out at me. I am curious about whether the background noises would be as pleasant if I could hear the pleas and cries of the photographer.

Our tree is next to me, complete with those big bubble lights that fascinate my husband. All the ornaments tell a story. I can sit and just stare at the tree while treasures of the past float through my mind. OR, I can sit and just stare off and pretend I am thinking of the memories.

Above the TV are my Eleven Days of Christmas in the form of nutcrackers. Next year Day 12 will join them. They stand watch over the room, an artistic line all impeccably dressed for the holiday season. The Three Wiseman sit on a table by the tank ready to bear gifts for the Christ child. Other nutcrackers fill my home, all gifts from Bob after he first saw my 99-cent Wal-Mart variety. Yet he stands next to my German sculptures in a place of honor.

The coffee table is filled with remnants of our holiday dinner. There’s my water bottle and fruit plate next to a plate once holding Christmas cookies. What does that say that the cookies have been transformed into just a measly assortment of crumbs while the fruit plate still has half of its wares?

But my poor husband lies upstairs, a painful example of his worn frame. He fell last night on our front porch steps only to relearn that when the body meets the concrete, the concrete wins. He hurt his shoulder and hobbles worse on his legs. The pain is a cold affront to his pride and heart. He is tired of hurting and doesn’t understand the long duration of his pain. In many ways, he has given up. He cries out to that babe in the manger demanding reasons and assistance. The chronic nature of his neurological injuries has been too chronic.

A funny little aside that hopefully will bring smiles. Our late night service was filled with people who have somehow managed to learn to love us since we have held our long time membership with this congregation. I stood in front of one such fabulous family last night. The moving choirs and brass had the walls echo in wonder and my head vibrate in pain. I stood in the hall for a short while but needed to be IN the service. After I get a migraine, my vertigo usually shortly follows. Such was the story last night. I was swaying away to the music, unable to catch my balance. It was as if I had sampled the communion wine, change that to guzzled the communion wine prior to the service. I was rocking away on my cruise ship feeling kind of confident that I was remaining vertical. Then I glanced behind me. The family in the row behind me was ready to catch my fall as their arms following my wavering form. That’s love.

But I sit on the couch with the light of our tree and pathetic Bears on TV. Maybe I can sometimes better address my own chronic pain because I love Chicago sports. If I can have this much patience for a better “next year” for those Cubs, I can wait a little longer on my chronic pain.

So love fills this home, despite half of us snoring away trying to ease his pain and the other half typing away to describe life here in Roselle. I move slowly when I move and my creaks can be heard miles away, but I know a baby was born for ME! That’s an amazing truth to reduce the pain and alter the focus of this final hour of Christmas. I am blessed. Life is good.

God Uses My Chronic Pain to Prove that Life is Good:

     -  I don’t know if being a Cubs fan makes the duration of chronic pain easier or vice versa. I do know that life is good.

Silent Night

The feeling of contentment has been replaced with the eager watching for what is about to appear. Little ones try there best to stay awake to catch one glimpse of the rotund fellow as he leaves lots of gifts, eats some prized cookies, and then is spirited away to discover the homes of other good girls and boys around the world.

Shopping for Santa is finished and Christmas wishes better have been sent to locations far and near. Moms and Dads will soon huddle together learning the truth of “some assembly required.” There will be multiple goodies overstuffed with more calories than I should probably consume in 27 years. It’s about time to prepare our personal cuisine for every Christmas Eve: shrimps, little pizzas and hot dogs. I’m glad that Santa does not believe in counting calories.

Bob’s got ideas for outside our home starting tonight, Christmas Eve and extending through the 12 days of Christmas. I’m unsure of what that will entail. I do know that we’ll be home for Christmas, relaxing in the wonder of Christ’s birth. I’m planning on staying in my PJ’s all day Christmas while reading the many kid books I have collected.

Bob and I are both slow at getting things done and that brings a strong sense of frustration. We have tried to curb our expectations and focus on that special birth. We wanted to welcome Christmas in our own church and our own church family. That late night service on Christmas Eve will further ignite a sense of serenity within us. Yet will it help cushion the sore muscles and nerves that are apart of our bodies?

Bob has fallen each day, despite prayers for good health. Yesterday he slipped on the small ladder in our basement going up to our crawl space. The ladder fell on my hubby, capturing him until I could waddle over to release him from his trap. Today, he slipped on our first step outside and landed on our cement. The sidewalk is still good, with no apparent cracks. Bob’s head is not quite as lucky.

He has tried hard to have lights appear this holy night with Santa kneeling at our manger scene. A snowflake hanging from some lower branches is a substitute for the star that will lead those wise men on their journey. (Can you imagine, God could only find three smart guys in all of Judea and beyond? How many could He locate today?) A thin, colored sheet of metal forms Santa’s body kneeling at the base of the sacred manger. A white wooden manger scene that has filled our yard for many years surrounds it. Bob is attempting to hide one of the baby Jesuses, but I think of my eldest grandson who asked to go see the other Jesus outside.

We will soon put luminaries outside along the sidewalk. Bob had looked for white ones about 304 days too late. We had some red and green ones I picked up somewhere, so they will be lovely substitutes for ones more solemn.

Bob is sleeping now, praying to wake with little pain. I napped this afternoon, so I am ready to go! My cough medicine with codeine knocks me out, so I will try to silently hack away. You all know the feeling of trying not to cough at some public event. I have yet to learn the trick so wish me luck at disguising my ailment.  I talked with Stephanie’s family. They are huddled with things to “nosh” watching our annual Miracle on 34^th Street. She has extended our patterns to her new family. The boys got to blow out the 4^th Advent candle and get birthday cake for Jesus at their home church. What a sense of peace that gives me. Suddenly, the hip is not so burning and my cough is reduced!

I have long told anyone near me in script or on the street of the many joys wrapped in the wonder of having grandchildren. There are few people in all of Chicagoland who are unaware of my status as a grandmother. With all that bottled pleasure comes a blanket of serenity when I see the actions of a past generation repeated this holy night. As my daughter begins to instill the real magic of a holy birth, as Bob and I attend our church service, as past generations have sung Silent Night there is peace for the world, a break in the busyness and a dream for the future. Help keep that dream alive. Merry Christmas Eve.

God Uses My Chronic Pain to Prove that Life is Good:

     -  It takes us longer, so we pick and choose the right activities for our home. We stop to prepare in a new way, making sure we insure the echo of the words of Luke. Life is good!

Santa is on the Way

A sinus infection has limited my desires and actions. The new medications are finally showing improvement in my body. Despite my illness, that calendar countdown has kept on going.

I managed to go out a little today. I went and picked up a few stocking gifts in the grand hopes that Bob’s stocking can be located. I finally found mine yesterday. The restoration company did an excellent job washing and scrubbing, but things were not replaced in the same bins they were originally stored. I mentioned before that my small wooden reindeer was found in three different boxes. (Not bad since there were only four parts.) So I will cross my fingers and then attack the world of bubble wrap and papers in search of that stocking.

Our cards have been mailed and new greetings grace our closet door. We are finding fewer cards this year, and half of what we have received is photo cards. It is somewhat amusing that multiple people have chosen their pets to replace any home picture. Why are they too chicken to show their own cute faces? Young children are still smiling out at me making me grin in response.

We are about to make cookies. Bob will then need to duct tape my hands to my side. I have managed to lose nine and a half pounds lately and don’t plan to gain that all back in one painful kitchen binge. I also want to have some family goodies on Christmas Eve. We also plan on meeting good friends for pizza on Friday night. There’s a somewhat logical chance that I’ll end up gaining those ten pounds back to my round frame.

Well, I need to go take my cough medicine with codeine. Then I will probably drop flat on my face in about thirty minutes. I WILL get over this sinus infection!!! My surgery for January needs to find me with clear lungs so that medication needs to get to work.

Just a few hours until the big red guy arrives. May all of your final preparations go well.

God Uses My Chronic Pain to Prove that Life is Good:

My schedule is my own, so I can sleep, pack and watch all of those holiday movies when my body allows.