The Cohen Brothers Couldn't Have Scripted It Any Better

Note: Found this in my unpublished archives from 2 years ago --title included -- and thought it would be fun just to post my notes "as is"...Ho-Ho-Ho.

...we were fighting a series of events (catastrophes, disasters, tragedies...the usual stuff) - Christmas Eve Day - basement floods (Shirley's carpeted bedroom);

_early next day - kitchen floods (during prep of Christmas dinner), pipe falls apart, can't use sink, guest arrives (room in basement); 

_drank wine, ate dinner, drank more wine, dessert(s);

_next day - basement floods (again!?), Silver Grill for breakfast, still went to True Grit (escape!), say goodbye to guest, can't do dishes;

_next day, Monday - call plumber early, go to showroom to pick out new faucet, talk to plumber, kitchen out of commission until Thursday...

_and...I just came down with a little head cold, the sore throat kind. Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas.

_trying to figure out how to write all this with a humorous slant for my blog. I don't think I'm there yet.

No Status Quo Ante* In My Future

An entire summer and more than half of autumn have crept away without nary a word from yours truly. There are good reasons for this, I tell myself. Really? I query. Truly and assuredly, I reply.

Admittedly, it was quite a large log that fell into my pond. One that brought little needful rest and even less consolation that life would ever return status quo ante. I turned the page, and... "Lo and behold!" an unexpected new chapter lay before me. 

I was not a cute little 3 or 4 year old girl playing nurse with her dollies -- this was REAL. Dry weight and vitals were to be recorded each and every morning. Combined with checking for edema and ease in breathing, medication decisions would be made. I soon realized that I had become an unlicensed, live-in practical nurse. 

My 87 year old mother was no longer just a simple matter of blind and crippled; she now had chronic congestive heart failure (CHF). 

The cardiologist directed a low-sodium diet of 2000 mg or less -- daily. This alone was enough to engulf my time each day. But I knew I also needed to balance that intake with potassium -- daily. What was set before me, I felt, would soon become an all-consuming and overwhelming task.

About 60 days into it, I seemed to be adjusting quite well, when, "Lo and behold!" another new chapter lay before me.

My beloved husband saw an infomercial that perfectly answered his fitness needs. Seriously. I saw it and agreed that this was the right thing for him. In less than a week, we were diving into... INSANITY! I do not jest.

Here's the REAL question: Why am I saying, we? Yes, why we, indeed!

No sooner had I begun to get comfortable with a "low-sodium, equal potassium" style of food planning and preparation, then now having to accommodate Insanity's program of Elite Nutrition. This would require 5 equal-caloric meals per day of high protein, moderate carbs and low fat. And I agreed with this!!!??

Did I say something about a large log that fell into my pond!? I may be mistaken, but I think it was more than one! 

Ah...don't take this wrong. I'm not complaining. I pulled it all off and am even writing again.  

No, I am far more concerned as to why I would think that anything I engage in would ever be status quo ante. Why would I even entertain that as a possibility? That has never been the case in my life, and I should rest assured, never will be. It's simply not who I am or what I wish my life to be. 

There are good reasons for this, I tell myself. Really? I query. Truly and assuredly, I reply. Truly and assuredly -- there is no status quo ante in my future.

*Status quo ante - Latin for "the way it was before." 

"J" is for Jumping Jacks

Have you ever tried to do a thousand jumping jacks? 

You get to 100...200...300...and you just keep going until your legs turn to rubber. Then you finally look down to see if those rubberized appendages are okay, and they aren't even moving...but you thought they were.

You're thinking you should quit. You're thinking it's all good because at least you tried. That's when you hear the voice of your favorite Star Wars' character:

 

"No," scolded Yoda. "Do, or do not. There is no try." 

So you ignore the sensation and continue to "jump" with your arms flaggling in the air as if you no longer own them. You have no idea what number you're on, but someone else is counting for you, so it doesn't matter. 

Then it happens. Suddenly you realize neither your arms or legs are actually moving -- not even twitching -- but somehow your mind is convinced you're still doing jumping jacks. Reality creeps in and you are terribly aware of how silly you must look. 

You glance around only to discover that many of the other jumpers aren't moving either, or have melted to the floor. The leader is still up front, jacking with near p-e-r-f-e-c-t form, while counting aloud. How does he do it?!! you ask yourself. 

Finally, the counting stops. It's over. And...you're still standing! You try to walk away, but can't. So you sit down right in the middle of the floor where you were once-upon-a-time jumping a jack...now...recovering. 

Carefully stretching each muscle as your breath and pulse return to that familiar quiet and steady rhythm, you start to feel as if someone just figured out how to put Humpty Dumpty back together again. Ever so slowly, you rise, and methodically walk away.

You know you are no longer the same person. You've changed. But you can't explain exactly how. You smile with satisfaction as a solitary yet powerful thought comes to mind:
     I was still standing :~)

"E" is for EARTHWORM

At the end of the month I would turn 8, making this the first Fourth of July I was allowed to have my own firecrackers, which I had tucked nicely away into my back pocket.  My dad had rented our normal little cottage for the long holiday weekend, that was somehow big enough for all 4 of us kids. My grandpa and grandma would be there for the day to fish, visit, and watch Dad set off all the fireworks from the dock that night.

Patty Calfy/Shutterstock

The morning was overcast, but I had a hankering to go fishing. Getting up early, I spent a good amount of time in the wooded area behind the cottage, digging for night crawlers -- those nice big over-sized earthworms that come up to the surface at night. I figured about a half dozen in a paper cup would do it, and grabbed my pole as I headed down to the dock. Dad had concluded it was too much of a bother to take the boat out in the misty drizzle.

I was pretty good with a rod and reel in my hand, casting out a good distance, and liked using a little red and white plastic bobber to watch in the water. The first worm sat tight on the hook, but was still lost to young perch -- just nibblers. My next one gave it up when the hook momentarily caught on some underwater debris. By now I was even more determined to catch something worth showing off.

My next cast landed at the edge of the lily pads, and down the bobber went -- a good hard hit. I didn't even have to set the hook! As I began to reel it in, I realized there wasn't the normal fight of a fish at the end of my line. Closer...closer...almost up to the dock...and I finally could see it in the dark water. A turtle!

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Lifting it out of the water with my pole, I swung it over to the grassy bank. Running down the dock, I called out to my two teen-aged brothers, "Come and see! Come and see!!" By the time I got to the crawling turtle, both of them were already there investigating. Yep. The worst thing had happened. It was a snapper!

Placing a stick the size of my finger into its mouth, they showed me how the little green guy would just snap it in two. I faced a dilemma: how to get my line out with the hook intact. The boys walked away, saying I was on my own. Great. I knew I would have to get Dad to cut the line and attach a new sinker-weight and hook, but I also knew Dad wouldn't want to mess with it right then.

I moved the turtle and pole a good ways inland, then headed up the embankment to the cottage. Dad seemed rather busy entertaining everyone there when I spoke up, but leaning down he told me I would need to find something else to do. As far as I was concerned, that was simply not an acceptable solution.

With renewed determination, I patted my back pocket, grabbed my pole, reeled the line in till the turtle was right up to the end of my rod, and marched out to the end of that dock. Then...carefully...I took not one, but two firecrackers, out of my pocket and carefully twisted their fuses into one. Lighting the mini explosives, I held them up to the snapper's mouth. As he chomped down hard, they held together, and I quickly lifted my rod and cast the turtle out high over the water -- as if it was going to be bait for a bigger catch.

Kapow!! Blam!! Pieces flew everywhere! My eyes scanned the shore to see if anyone had noticed. Not a soul. My moment of glory, and no one saw it! Not that I enjoyed the fact that I had just blown up a turtle, but I reveled in the realization that I had just solved my impossible dilemma! 

Slowly, I reeled in my line, relieved that the sinker and hook were still in place. But, then I looked again. I could hardly believe my eyes! There -- sitting on the hook completely intact and almost like new -- was my nice big over-sized EARTHWORM!

"A" is for Time

(No, the title is not a typo.)
Working for a boss, I wondered at times why they didn't do, what I thought they should do, when I thought they should. Like, why don't they fire so-and-so? Or, why didn't they bring that up at the meeting? And, don't they see what's going on here?? I mean, I thought I was pretty darn smart.

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Then, there are those times I have been perplexed as all get out, as to my husband's timing with his decisions. Like, why did he choose to keep quiet about that when he talked to so-and-so? Or, why won't he take the time to sit down and discuss this with me? And, doesn't he realize that such-and-such really needs to be done now? I mean, I thought I was pretty smart on how and when we should do things. 

Granted, there is always the possibility that my boss simply avoided confrontation, didn't like uncomfortable subjects at meetings, and always walked around in a general daze. And there is always the possibility that my husband just doesn't feel like confronting so-and-so, doesn't want to have a might-turn-into-a-major-talk with me, and actually likes doing things on his own timetable once in awhile.  Imagine that.

Yet, in life, timing is often crucial - and not just when deadlines are involved. Many times I have to remind myself that now may not be the best time to mention something to someone, or not the right time to do a particular thing I've been wanting to do. In much of life there is...
                   "A" time 
                         set apart 
                              for saying 
                                   and doing
                                        certain things 
                                             at certain times...

and, there is a genuinely smart reason the following was ever written. Perhaps now is the right time to pause long enough to read, and ponder, each line:
                             
To every thing there is a season, and 
          A time to every purpose under the heavens: 
A time to be born, and 
          A time to die;
A time to plant, and 
          A time to pluck up what was planted;
A time to kill, and 
          A time to heal;
A time to brake down, and 
          A time to build up;
A time to weep, and 
          A time to laugh;
A time to mourn, and 
          A time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and 
          A time to gather stones together;
A time to embrace, and 
          A time to refrain from embracing;

A time to get, and 
          A time to lose;
A time to keep, and 
          A time to cast away;
A time to rend, and 
          A time to sew;
A time to keep silence, and 
          A time to speak;
A time to love, and 
          A time to hate;
A time of war, and 
          A time of peace.
                                         ~ ECCLESIASTES 3:1-8 

Know what? I'm feeling pretty darn smart lately :~)

Make Your Day

Today is simply one of those days when reading from The Book of Psalms early this morning did my soul good, like Psalm 103, and remembering not to give up - ever - is a good decision.

You Mustn't Quit
                            ~ Author Unknown 

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,
When the road you're trudging seems all uphill,
When the funds are low and the debts are high
And you want to smile, but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest! if you must--but never quit.

Life is queer, with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about
When he might have won if he'd stuck it out;
Stick to your task, though the pace seems slow--
You may succeed with one more blow.

Success is failure turned inside out--
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt--
And you never can tell how close you are,
It may be near when it seems afar;
So stick to the fight when you're hardest hit--
It's when things seem worst that YOU MUSTN'T QUIT.

Make your day - as I will mine - one of success :~)

When Times Are Tough

A fellow writer recently remarked, "I think people sometimes forget to dig deep and find strength." 

The truth of this statement intrigued me - especially the "forget to dig" part. I asked my oh-so-wise-sage husband what he thought, and was pleasantly surprised by his rather immediate response. He reminded me that we had once been taught (by an equally oh-so-wise sage), that one of the reasons for keeping a personal journal is to have the resource to go back to when times are tough.

Weighing his reply, I again realized that when an individual is reading pages that were written in triumph, one can be reminded of their own strength and even fired up enough to take on the greatest of mountains. Is this not what often inspires us from the stories we read of other people and their lives? How much more convincing it would be if the main character of that story was indeed, yours truly! 

In my last post, I wrote:  When people have become complacent or frustrated from living without answers, often they will buckle, bend or break to the strain. 

Complacency is defined as: contented to a fault; self-satisfied and unconcerned. And, the Princeton wordnetweb definition of frustration is: the feeling that accompanies an experience of being thwarted in attaining your goals. I can definitely see how frustration could cause complacency. Wow! But I also realize there may be other reasons for becoming complacent. 

My strength can seem so small when I have no answers, and the temptation is so great to simply not care - to become contented to a fault and unconcerned - almost calloused, or even bitter. I wonder how many areas in my life are on this course - or are starting to consider this path. Hopefully - none. But it never hurts to do the ol' check up from the neck up! 

Earlier, I also wrote: Some are simply stronger than others - that doesn't make them better, smarter or right - just stronger (and only in some areas). 

Perhaps some people appear stronger simply because they remembered to dig deep to find strength.

Over this past week, I have had four of my six koi suddenly die. At first it appeared to be an outside predator. But, as we diligently disassembled the pond, cleaned it, bought a new pump and filter, and finished all the spring cleanup of it, I have concluded it was natural causes. 

I wanted to blame myself - not staying on top of it through the winter. The temptation was to simply get completely out of the "fish pond business" - today - less my possible neglect might bring about further demise, and to avoid any more attachments. These thoughts arose primarily because I had no answer as to what caused them to die. If I had answers, I'd probably just fix whatever it is and continue to enjoy my koi. 

In the face of adversity, no matter how overwhelming or trite, resolution comes not in re-acting, but in acting. To move forward, we don't always need an explanation. I moved forward with cleaning up the pond and taking care of my remaining two fish, Shadow and Bogie. In moving forward, I was able to overcome the frustration and avoided complacency. This time I remembered to dig deep to find the strength.

But for those times when I sometimes forget just how strong I am, I have my journals. The various subjects throughout my life are diverse - heartbreaks, divorce, education, drugs, family, religion, God, personal loss, health issues, conflicts, purchasing a home, financial struggles, parental care giving, success, love and even great peace. They include the records of my hitchhiking trek across half of Canada and scaling the Rocky Mountains of Colorado. And, all are written - thankfully - in triumph. 

When times are tough, and I forget to dig deep to find strength, I can pull out a journal and read one of those inspiring stories that fire me up enough to take on even the greatest of mountains - a very convincing story in which the main character is yours truly.

Far From Nothing

One of my favorite networks is The Red Room. It's slow-moving and quiet, but I actually have more views there of my member page, than anywhere else. So I wrote a blurb entitled, "A Writer's Goal - No Regrets," just for The Red Room. 

This brought a comment from "a Southern writer whose work explores the connections between deeper universal truths and the daily moments of our lives" (her own description) which reminded me of, well...me. That meant I had to look at the blog of Marissa Mullins. 

When I visited, I read "A Post About Nothing" from March 7th, where Marissa poses personal social issues that concern many of us at times. Of course, just that alone would make her post Far From Nothing. The following are my somewhat disjointed comments I left on her site (with a few minor edits), which may stir up your curiosity just enough to click on her link also, Paucis Verbis (Latin, transl. in a few words).

(At the time of this writing, Marissa is unaware that I decided to promote her, but I did thank her for inspiring today's post. Little did she know what she was getting herself into when she commented so beautifully on my Red Room post.) 

These are my comments, meant to both inspire and challenge ~

It appears to be true that those who choose the path that caters *not* to greed and over-desire are small in number, and are seeming to become even less as time goes on. In some ways, they're just harder to notice because the Charlie Sheens and the Mel Gibsons of the world simply stand out so overly-much.
 

When people have become complacent or 
frustrated from living without answers, often 
they will buckle, bend or break to the strain. 
Some are simply stronger than others - that 
doesn't make them better, smarter or right - 
just stronger (and only in some areas).

All people crave to be filled within the deep crevices of their souls with some sort of fulfillment where they can be at peace. The knowledge of God and what He does for a person can satisfy that yearning; but even that awareness and understanding comes in so many different flavors, people have a hard time deciding which one.

To help people, there first has to be a mutually recognized want and need. Remember, you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink it. The key? A mutually recognized want and need. A very wise person once said that need is defined as the space between where someone is now and where they want to be. No space? Then there is no want, and therefore, no need.  All of us need-meet-ers should be mature and wise enough to accept this - at least in theory.  

And, I might add, that those on the receiving end of a need-meet-er's generosity, should be allowed the freedom to get on with living their lives as they see fit... however lacking we feel they may be... yes, even if it's our significant other. And that's definitely, Far From Nothing :~)

I'm Not Heavy... It's My Heart

Heaviness comes in different sized packages with a vast array of trimmings. But no matter what the shape or content, it will make an individual feel small, and at times, insignificant. It is really nice to know there is a way to remedy it.

                       Heaviness in the heart of man maketh it stoop: 

                                 but a good word maketh it glad.

Quite some time ago, I was given the challenge of learning how to lay fresh sod. I had to travel on the back of a flatbed truck to the sod site, load the rolls onto the truck, ride back to the landscape site, unload and roll out the sod, then carefully tuck in all the seams. There was one tiny detail I hadn't given any thought to - the area had just endured one of its worst torrential downpours in years! 

I had to draw on a lot of my core principles that day - like mental stamina and how to pace myself. The sod was very heavy. It took 2 to 3 people just to load and unload each and every roll! By the end of the day, my mud-caked boots and throbbing legs were telling me that plodding through mud was far more than just a cliche.

That was the same year (my early 40's) when I had the opportunity to snowshoe for the first time - with a 15-20 pound day pack at nearly 10,000 feet in the Colorado Rockies. "What a blast!" I thought...until I discovered how much snow accumulates on top of each snowshoe after every 3 or 4 steps. No biggy. You just shake your foot to flip it off and keep moving.

Unless, of course, the snow happens to be ultra-sticky.

That little day pack began to feel terribly heavy after navigating a couple thousand feet of steep uphill terrain, causing my entire body to bend forward, stooping under the "load." Finally, my shortness of breath convinced me. I wasn't just carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders, but like the mythical Atlas, it was the entire celestial sphere!

I recovered from both of those adventures in pretty much the same way - by indulging myself with a lingering steam bath and cool-down shower, followed by a scrumptious meal, and a night of leisure with a good movie and my closest friends. There were lots of good words being shared about what I had accomplished, making my heart quite glad and proud of myself.

Yet the plodding in mud is felt by everyone at different times. The toil, and at times the drudge in life - as if painfully tramping through mire and wet. Or perhaps it's the weight of the world that's felt - being burdened with too much responsibility for a single person to bare. We may not always have the opening to make a heart glad with a good word, but I believe I have found the next best thing...

                                          The Value of a Smile

                                                       ~ Anonymous

My Daughter & her Friend

It costs nothing, but creates much.

It happens in a flash,

And the memory sometimes lasts forever.

It cannot be bought, begged, borrowed or stolen,

And it is of no earthly good to anyone,

Until it is given away.

So, if in your hurry and rush,

                                          You meet someone who is too weary

                                          To give you a smile -- leave one of yours.

                                          For there is no one on earth who needs a smile

                                          Quite as much as he who has none left to give.

Challenge the Pond-er

Here's a good way to challenge *me.* ~ 

(Please note: This is assuming you are a member of Facebook...hhhmmmm)

Pick one of my *Likes* from this link: Pond-er's fb Page. For more than just the 5 featured ones in the sidebar, click on Info, located below the picture. Then, let me know what you chose by sharing it on my Pond-er wall...and if you like my page, there's a button for that, too :~) 

Now, let's see if I will have a story to tell about it - to post on my blog. I'll let you know if I picked yours by leaving a comment on my Wall, under your post. And besides, there's always a fun or challenging moral to all my posts (well, almost always) - to tuck away for some motivated moment in time :~)

Slow Time Down, Jam Things Up, and Often Start Over

This morning I felt like my days were getting by me unnoticed, and time slipping right through the proverbial fingertips, when a nostalgic tag line came to mind:

         Like sands through the hourglass, 
         so are the days of our lives.

My memory told me I first heard these words filtering through the air when I was a young child, intently building a house of tiny bricks on our family room floor. But memory cannot always be trusted. Apparently, this statement was first used in 1965 by television announcer, Ed Prentiss, for the dramatic serial debut of Days of Our Lives.  This means I had already taken a big intimidating bite into my teen years when my mom began to faithfully watch that show.

What a vivid picture for my young mind! I did not want my life to just slip away like those sands. Those words were just a simple simile, but I rebutted them as if they were allegorically true: What if some grains of sand were a little bigger than the others, wouldn't that cause them to slow down or even jam going through that narrow opening? And besides, hourglasses are turned over when they're done; you just start over. I knew my life would be different. I would slow time down, jam things up, and often start over.

By slowing time down, I actually fit a lot more into my life. Have you ever had a day where you felt that so much happened, it was like living an entire week in one day...in a good way? When I plan my day way ahead of it arriving, I really do slow time down.

But planning a full day also means things can get bottled up - jammed at the gooseneck, so to speak - when even one part doesn't go...as planned. Have you ever had something take 3 hours to complete, that should've only taken half an hour? Some of those other great plans I had for that day will simply have to be placed on hold. But that's okay, since I know how to slow time down.

Then there's the uneventful kind of day where nothing gets accomplished, nothing happens, and it just seems to go by unnoticed. Ever have any of those? If I have two or more in one week, let alone back to back (yikes!). Well, that's where I've got to just flip the hourglass and start over.

Actually, I love "overs." Overs is like hitting erase, only better. There is absolutely no trace, no residue, from what was there before. Memory? Ah heck, you can't totally trust it anyway.

Both my husband and I *love* to do overs. When it's something pretty serious, we even add a "pinky shake" just to seal our agreement. It's a pretty smooth arrangement that works quite well for us.

When it comes to just me though, I seem to always forget I can do overs. But today?... Today, I remembered. Today was an overs kind of day... just for me :~)

Want to Write But... (conclusion)

Don't ask. You know... about the bulbs. Mom? She's fine - sort of. Harder to "deal with," I suppose. Doesn't hear so well - if at all for that matter. (But she can somehow hear her books just fine. Go figure!) Refuses to get hearing aids; has it all reasoned out as to why they were never meant for her. Takes a Lipo-something nutritional her sister sent to help improve hearing. It doesn't. But she doesn't realize how placebo it is, because she has very limited short-term memory (among her many other interesting ailments that she's decided no doctor is allowed to address). Did that actually make any sense? If I sound stressed about it, I'm not; but some tell me I might be in denial.

Ahhh... now here's the *real* question: Am I finally writing? Well... sort of. At least you're reading it! And, I thank you:~)

My Mother is Like a Pack of Cigarettes (sigh...and I don't even smoke anymore!)

I'm an in-my-own-home caregiver for my nearly 85 year old mother. She is blind (but insists on still wearing glasses... go figure), has very poor hearing (but won't wear hearing aids... naturally), has one replacement knee and the other not working too well (because of a cyst that she won't have removed), one hip's been replaced and the other's always stiffening up (because of how much time she stays in bed), and numerous stomach/digestive pains (but not possibly related to her daily consumption of peanut butter cheese crackers, chocolates and sugar wafers).

I haven't even mentioned the 5 medications she takes (some over 15 years) for high blood pressure, arrhythmia, aortic stenosis, shortness of breath, water retention and low thyroid. She also manages to do just enough of her own personal care so as to not qualify for Medicaid, but not quite enough for me to work a career outside the home. Caught in the cracks... sort of.

Like a pack of cigarettes (to a smoker): needful, but when you wish they weren't, that's when they seem to be the most.

Oh yeah, and she's always telling me how she wasn't supposed to live past the age of 75, saying, "if there's no quality of life, there's no purpose anymore."

Like a pack of cigarettes (to a former-smoker): when you see them lying around, you wonder why they're still there. Not that I look at her that way - oh, no - that's how she sees herself, for God's sake!