I'm Dying . . .

So are you, actually. We all are. I guess you could say that from the minute we take our first breath we begin the process that leads to our last breath. I'm not trying to sound morbid or anything, just realistic. Some of us are further along the path than others, but we're all traveling down the same path, heading in the same direction, toward the same destination. Well, sort of. Some of us will have a final destination (hopefully) that is more pleasant than others, but we all have to go through the same process to get there. Of course, the closer you get to that final terminal, the more keenly aware you become of its nearness and of all the things you probably forgot to pack.

My daughter has asked me several times to write about the humorous side of growing old, and I would really, really love to do that. I just can't find that side. It's like this heavy iron ball -- there are no sides to it. It's just there. And it only gets heavier. I keep turning it over expecting to see some cryptic message float up from somewhere inside, saying something like, "Outlook not so good." And now, at this point of my life when my strength seems to be diminishing, the ball is getting heavier. That's not to say that there is nothing good about growing older -- there is. Plenty. Good -- but not funny.

I guess what made me think of this was something my 4-year-old grandson said at the supper table. His mom was trying to convince him to eat some of his food to help his body grow strong. He wanted to know if marshmallows would make his body strong, and we had to explain that while marshmallows tasted good, they weren't really good for your body. He pondered that for a moment, and I know he was thinking, "Then why do you feed them to me?" He suddenly switched gears, as 4-year-olds do, and asked, "What are brains for?" which we tried to explain in preschool terminology. He wanted to know what happened if we didn't have a brain, and of course we told him that we would die. "Why?" he asked. "Because our brains make everything in our bodies work." We talked about our bodies coming back to life again when Jesus comes, etc. Then he asked his mom, "Is Grandma dying?" We exchanged glances and smiles, and his mom said, "She will someday."

Now, I didn't think a whole lot about this until I told my daughter about it and she put things into perspective. Does Onias think my body is dying because my brain isn't working very well? Dang. Is it that obvious?

Just another day. . .

Well, I think I'm ready to begin posting again, after a 4-month hiatus, thanks to the encouragement of family members. I'm not exactly sure why I stopped in the first place -- overwork, fatigue, testing, depression, inability to find anything humorous or entertaining in my life to write about. I think maybe I just couldn't take the pressure. See, I had imagined that I was writing to some ethereal cyber-audience, so I felt I had to be consistently witty, pithy, and entertaining, because who knew when some talent scout from Random House or Doubleday would happen upon my blog and think, "Eureka! This is the most original and brilliant literary talent of the century!" and post a comment offering me an immediate book deal, which I would, of course, accept and for which I would win the Pulitzer Prize and become an overnight multi-millionaire. The pressure to perform under that kind of scrutiny was too much, and I'm afraid I caved under the stress. I realize that I must write to a different audience if I am to be consistent -- family, friends, and other sympathetic bloggers. To all my faithful cyber-readers who relied on my wit, wisdom, and insight to give meaning to their humdrum lives -- I'm sorry I let you down, but -- you need to get a life. To all you literary scouts -- you'll have to look elsewhere. You'll find no Hemingway or Austen here. . . So, that said, I was complaining to my granddaughter about having nothing interesting to write about, and she said that if she were writing a blog, she would "make up stuff" to write about. I thought that sounded like fun, but not really appropriate for someone of my sophistication and maturity -- and not really fair to my faithful readers who expect something profound from my posts. So, I decided to simply tell you about my day, which was just a typical Sabbath Day in my life. . .

The alarm went off at 5:00 AM, and I arose from my bed, rested, refreshed, and eager to begin my day. I felt no pain whatsoever in my knees or ankles and no pressure at all from my weak bladder, so I immediately dropped to my knees for my morning prayer. Half an hour later, I arose and made my way to my sparkling, spacious bathroom where I showered, brushed, and "made up" my face. Back downstairs, I put a roast and vegetables in the crockpot and a dessert in the fridge. Usually, I cook my family a hot Sunday breakfast, but since it was Fast Sunday I just retired to my office for an hour of reading and pondering the scriptures. Gathering my supplies, I left for Church, arriving an hour early -- plenty of time to see to my Ward Librarian duties and gather supplies for the Primary class I was substitute-teaching. After setting up my classroom, I entered the chapel, where my loving family awaited me. They had even saved me a seat in my favorite pew! The testimonies were inspiring -- especially my own, which left hardly a dry eye in the congregation. My Primary class was reverent, attentive, and engaged, and all the children begged me to teach them every Sunday from now on. At the end of the meetings, I "closed up shop" in the library and headed to my car, still bright-eyed and invigorated. I drove home in my air-conditioned car that smelled like honeysuckle and pulled into my drive, pausing to gaze at my lush, manicured lawn and my thriving flower garden. I glanced at my neighbor's yard, which was full of garden hoses, riding toys, clotheslines, and dog piles, and said a silent prayer of gratitude.

Inside, I entered my gleaming, air-conditioned kitchen, where the aroma of pot roast and carrots made my mouth water. The grandchildren read books and colored in the playroom while I set a beautiful table, including an arrangement of daisies and lilies from my own garden. During dinner, which was cooked to perfection, we discussed what we had learned in our lessons that day, and the children ate everything on their plates. After clearing the dinner table, I sat down to write personal, inspiring letters to all the sisters on my Visiting Teaching list. I had no sooner finished when Christine and her family stopped by for a visit. The men sat in the living room, discussing the Mysteries of the Kingdom, while we women visited outside on our wrap-around porch and the children played house in our large gazebo.

After a while, we strolled down the garden path to our private pond, where the children fed bread to the ducks and swans that live there. When the fireflies appeared, we strolled back to the house, where we all gathered in our spacious family room to sing hymns and bear testimonies to one another. After kneeling in family prayer, Christine and her family bid us a fond good-bye and left for home. The grandchildren went to bed, and I returned to my office, where I completed two pages - 40 names - on the Family Search Indexing website. Then I decided to write a post telling about my wonderful -- but completely typical -- day. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did.

There. Wasn't that a lot more interesting than some make-believe story?

Well, here it is -- the end of another weekend, and one week closer to summer break. It snowed nonstop all day yesterday (Saturday), and we were literally house-bound. By the time it finished snowing and blowing, it was actually deeper than these photos show. Today four of us cleaned off and dug out the cars so that we can get to work and school tomorrow. It was beautifully sunny, about 36 degrees, and the snow was beginning to melt in the sun. As we were working, I heard some birds calling overhead. I enjoy trying to identify the local birds by their calls and songs, but this one sounded unusual. Looking up, I saw a group of group of large white birds with gray-tipped wings circling above our yard. Seagulls! We all paused to watch this incongruous spectacle -- a colony of gulls circling and screeching over a snow-covered neighborhood of northeast Ohio. How weird is that?

In searching for the correct name for a group of seagulls, I discovered some very unusual names for various animal groups. Test yourself and see how many you know. You can find the list of answers under my bookshelf. Ready? What do you call a group of:

1. alligators
2. butterflies
3. cats
4. cows
5. hippos
6. jellyfish
7. lizards
8. raccoons
9. spiders
10. wombats

I got this info from the San Diego Zoo site. Made me feel pretty ignorant, actually.

Who Do Voodoo?

Another beautiful, heavy snowfall today. Perhaps the last of the season. At any rate, my yard looks clean again! This photo is not my yard (I wish). It's where I went sledding with my grandkids.

Today I visited the office of an "alternative medicine" practitioner for the first time. I was not there for myself; I went with S. and the three grandkids. Zoe came home from the hospital yesterday, but still is not feeling well. S. attended some type of wellness lecture or workshop a couple weeks ago where she learned about this new procedure to cure people of allergies -- the concept being that many of our medical problems are actually due to allergic reactions to something (or several somethings). While traditional medicine would treat this by prescribing drugs to suppress the allergic reaction, this technique "clears" the body from specific allergens, so that the body no longer reacts to them. S. brought home some literature and told me what she learned from the speaker -- a chiropractor. This procedure was developed by a doctor in California and has been used for 20 years with remarkable success. The process is called NAET (Nambudripad's Allergy Elimination Techniques) after the doctor that developed it. Only 8000 doctors around the country (or world?) are trained in this procedure, and we have one here in town. So one day after the lecture S. and her friend went to this doctor's office and spent quite a bit of time talking to her and learning about the procedure. Today she took Zoe there to see if she could identify the source of Zoe's illness.

I am not yet 100% sold on this procedure -- my son says it sounds like voodoo. But I am keeping an open mind -- for several reasons. I believe that there are many, many things about our bodies that traditional medicine does not understand and cannot control. I believe that our bodies have remarkable powers of self-healing and regeneration that we have not yet tapped. I believe that an eternal spirit exists within the corporeal frame of our bodies, and that this spirit gives life and intelligence to every single cell. Each cell has its own "brain" -- or nucleus -- that controls its activities. We know that different body systems "communicate" with each other to maintain homeostasis. Who is to say exactly how that communication takes place? Scientists and doctors tell us it happens through chemicals or nerve impulses -- because those can be measured and documented. But those of us who believe in a Supreme Being know that there are some things -- real things -- that simply cannot be measured, witnessed, or "proven."

Do I really believe that there are "meridians" of energy running throughout the body? Why not? We know that every body exerts a magnetic field, even though we can't see it. We've all heard or read stories about people undergoing painful medical procedures or surgeries with nothing but hypnosis or acupuncture as an anesthetic. No one really knows how it works, but it works. What I do know is that I have tried traditional medicine, and it has not helped. It cannot help, in fact. Doctors do not even understand what causes fibromyalgia, and they certainly don't offer me much hope for the future. I just know I hurt -- everywhere. And I'm tired of it. No one else has been able to help me, and maybe this doctor can. The literature claims that FM is caused by allergies, and that "clearing" those allergens will relieve the symptoms. If that is true and she can make me feel pain-free and mentally alert again, it's worth the cost of the treatments. For now, I will just have to go on faith.

This and That. . . .

I don't have any burning issues to discuss today. This morning I was on my way to a teacher conference in a city over 2 hours away when the car I was borrowing (because my own car has squeaking brakes) began to shake and rock from side to side, like I was driving on oval tires. I never speed, so I knew that hyper velocity was not the issue. And, because I was driving alone and still had an hour and a half to go, I decided to turn around and head back to the barn. I had every intention of getting a full day's worth of uninterrupted work in (since all of my students thought I was out of town), but that didn't happen. With Zoe in the hospital and the borrowed car to return and my daughter to drive to work, blah, blah, blah. . . the day was pretty much a wash. Which it would have been if I had gone to my meeting, anyway. So, I just gave up and resigned myself to another day of good intentions and poor results. My FM is really bothering me today, and it's pretty difficult to feel thoughtful, creative, or even focused. So, I'll just share some of the little tidbits I've come across during my roamings and ramblings. . .

Are you a fan of Jane Austen's book Emma? Here is an interesting quiz that will tell you which character you are most like. I was Elizabeth, but with strong Emma tendencies.

Here is a 12-question personality quiz that is supposed to be "surprisingly accurate." I'm not so sure. This was my analysis: Others see you as fresh, lively, charming, amusing, practical, and always interesting; someone who's constantly in the center of attention, but sufficiently well-balanced not to let it go to their head. They also see you as kind, considerate, and understanding; someone who'll always cheer them up and help them out. I don't think this sounds much like me at all. I do NOT like being the center of attention, and I'm hardly ever lively. Even on caffeine I'm not lively. On caffeine I'm just vertical.

My daughter, R., and her friend used to have fun analyzing people and deciding which animal they would be, if they were an animal. It was hilarious, and actually pretty accurate. My husband, she said, would be a lizard -- because he likes to find a comfortable spot, and then just stay there. On the other hand, I was a hamster (or was it a guinea pig?), because I was cute and soft, and cuddly. My daughter, S., who was a bit flighty and scatter-brained, would be a butterfly -- pretty and fun to watch, but hard to pin down to one spot (or one thought). So, I was amused when I found a quiz that would tell me which animal I would be if I were reincarnated. Of course, I don't believe in such nonsense, but I took the bait anyway. Well, I'm pleased to say that when I am reincarnated I will not be a hamster, I will be a Gold Falcon! High in the sky! You are a very intelligent person. You get your pride in the way and it sometimes gets very high, but you're a very romantic person. Your soul mate is the Silver and Red Wolf. You're in conflict with the Teal Cat. Hmmmm.... don't falcons eat hamsters?

I also found a site that let me create a slide show of my family pictures. If you click on "View All Images" you can see them one at a time in a little larger format. Enjoy!

Cats vs. Dogs

Yesterday I pulled into the driveway, and Suijei (who was in the yard) suddenly began doing what she always does when we arrive home unexpectedly and she is caught loitering on the job -- she ran to the nearest tree and began barking at the squirrel who lives there. (After all, she must appear to be earning her keep by protecting us from potentially rabid rodents.) She was standing along the edge of our property which is lined with small Rose of Sharon bushes -- bushes that my youngest daughter planted 7 years ago. Actually, when she planted them they were nothing but twigs she had cut (or torn) from our other Rose of Sharon bushes. She dug evenly spaced holes, stuck these twigs in the ground, and watered them faithfully. I was certain they wouldn't grow -- after all, they were simply twigs with no roots and no leaves, and she planted them in an area that receives little direct sunlight. A couple of them were accidentally mowed over, but miraculously, the rest of them took root and grew. They eventually branched out and blossomed, and every summer we have pink and white Rose of Sharon blossoms. Seeing them reminds me of my sweet daughter and her determined optimism.

So. . . there was Suijei, standing between these bushes, barking furiously at a squirrel that she had probably awakened from his nap. Then, because she was frustrated at not being able to mutilate the squirrel, she decided to mutilate my bushes instead. She began chewing on and tearing off the lowest branches of two of my bushes. I thought about running over there and kicking her, but that was pointless. Even if I could run, and even if I could reach her before she ran away, and even if I could get in a kick or two, that wouldn't stop her from desecrating my bushes any other time I am not looking. It occurred to me that, that must be why my Rose of Sharon bushes look more like trees -- because she has chewed off the lower branches. I remembered how she chewed up a small lilac bush my children had given me for Mother's Day. I simply shook my head, sighed, and walked into the house feeling powerless. Someday, I told myself, she will be gone and I will have a real yard again. I hope I have a few bushes left by then.

So, with that in mind, I thought this would be a good time to explain why cats make better pets than dogs. Now mind you, I said "pets." I am fully aware that there are certain canine functions that cats simply cannot (or will not) perform -- attacking intruders, sniffing out drugs, guiding blind people, or herding sheep. But those animals are not truly "pets" -- they are serving as companions or work partners. I use the term "pet" to describe an animal that you keep for the sheer enjoyment or comfort that it brings -- not for the service it provides.

1) Cats do not leave piles of poop in the yard. They defecate in designated boxes in the house, and outside they do their business in a private spot and then bury it.
2) Cats do not sniff your crotch. And, they don't sniff each other's, either.
3) Cats do not stink. OK, maybe their litter box smells, but the animal itself does not smell. If I pet a cat, my hand does not smell when I am done.
4) Cats do not bark. Some may see this as a disadvantage, since barking alerts homeowners of intruders. Barking also alerts homeowners of squirrels in trees, cats walking by, mail carriers, children riding their bikes, neighbors walking their children, friends and family who may visit, oher dogs in the neighborhood that are barking, falling leaves, floating clouds, or whatever else moves.
5) Cats don't need to be bathed.
6) Cats don't lick your face (or your kids' faces). OK, some of you may think that is just oh-so-cute; I find it disgusting. I know where that tongue has been.
7) Kittens are much cuter and funnier than puppies. And they don't need to be housebroken.
8) Petting a cat has been shown to decrease blood pressure.
9) Owning a cat reduces your risk of dying of a heart attack or stroke. It's true!
10) Cats are independent. They can keep themselves occupied for hours with little attention or maintenance from you.
11) Cats do not attack. Of course, dog lovers will see this as a shortcoming, since cats won't attack intruders or muggers. On the other hand, cats will not attack their owners or their owners' children, either.
12) Cats are much gentler and more in control of their emotions. (Than dogs -- not people)

Good News, Bad News

Zoe showing us her "pretty face" (as opposed to her happy face, mean face, or sad face). This photo has nothing to do with anything, I just thought it might make you smile -- or make me smile.

So. . . the good news is that it was 62 degrees outside today! The bad news is that my yard no longer looks as nice as everyone else's yard.

I'm sorry I haven't written for a few days. I guess I've had "blogger's block." And I'm not feeling very witty today, either, so don't get your hopes up. I was feeling kind of sluggish, so when S. wanted to stop at Sheetz on the way to work, I went in and got an armload of energy drinks. Then, since I thought I also needed some protein, preservatives, and sodium, I also grabbed a jumbo-sized beef jerky. In the process, I knocked one beef jerky on the floor, and S. had to pick it up for me, since my arms were busy holding all my energy drinks. So, I set everything on the counter and paid for it all, and the cashier hesitated, then said, "Did you want a bag for that?" "Uh, yeah." Duh.

We pulled out onto the road, and I handed the vacuum-packed, hermetically-sealed beef jerky to S. to open for me (because I was driving, of course). After opening the package and peeling down the institutional-grade plastic, she decided to take a bite before handing it to me. (I know, don't you just hate it when people do that?) After one chew she uttered this sudden, involuntary noise (something between a squawk and a bark) and put her hand over her mouth. Fortunately, we were stopped at a light, which allowed her the opportunity to open her door and deposit the contents of her mouth onto the road. I can only wonder what the guy in the car behind us thought. She proclaimed, "Ugh! That is disgusting! Taste it!" And obediently, I did taste. It certainly didn't taste like any beef jerky I had ever eaten before, although I wasn't crude enough to open my car door and spit it onto the street -- maybe because the car was moving. "It tastes like . . . dog food." "That's what I thought, too," concurred S., her eyes now watering. "Not that I've ever tasted dog food, " I assured her. "But it tastes like what dog food smells like." She agreed. "Actually," I said, "it tastes like a dog's breath smells after he's eaten dog food." So, not wanting to litter, I tossed the rest of the jerky into the back seat with my energy drinks. When I got back home, Suijei (our resident canine) was sitting at her post atop the picnic table. Suijei isn't allowed to have people food, but this certainly wasn't fit for human consumption. I reasoned that since it tasted like dog food, maybe Suijei would like it, so I set a piece on the picnic table for her. It's still there.