My father once told me that my friends would be the people who stuck with me during the worst of times. Getting stuck in a bind which required some helping hand would show me who my true friends are. Not that he recommended that I do that and thankfully I haven’t been in that far of mess yet. (I’d say hopefully ever, but I know me too well!)
A true friend, my mother told me, was someone who didn’t care if you won or lost something. If you were clean or dirty. A true friend, my mother insisted, would be someone would pitch in and get dirty right along with you. Because a true friend wouldn’t care about the mess, just letting their heart help you out as best they could.
Both my parents assured me that no one has a lot of true friends. Fair weather friends who are along for the good times? Sure you will probably have a lot of those if you are blessed, they told me. But the ones who’d be stuck in the pouring rain with you, or bail you out of jam? Well you’d be truly blessed if you had one or two of those in your life.
And my parents assured me I would know who these people are compared to the others in my life. Which is true, I do. And I’m blessed to have them although I never tell them enough how I much I love them. And I take them for granted at times, not meaning to, but it happens because I’m a jerk that way.
Do you know who you can count on to bail you out–whether it’s from jail or a flooded boat? If you do, make sure you let that person or people in your life know what they mean to you.
One of my specialists decided to have a rather frank chat with me about my lifestyle. Well actually after he was finished studying my purple fingers turn lovely red under hot water, he informed me that I should consider where I live more closely. He said something like only a fool with my issues would continue to live in a place where things are not stable as far as weather, barometric pressure and temperature go.
And he’s not exactly wrong. I know this isn’t the ideal place for me under the terms of temperature and weather. But it works for me in other ways and it’s not an easy call as to which benefits are better and which draw backs are worse. If it were that easy than I’d wouldn’t have been dithering about things like where to live.
The other factor in this is what is ideal for me may be not allow me the access I need to health care. And then let’s not even discuss that what works best for me is somehow the worst things for Beloved. I need heat and he struggles in that. I like sun and apparently he almost a vampire. He lives for the drastic changes in the weather and loves to see the distinctive seasons. I could care less about that stuff. I just want to feel, well, human these days.
Which brings me back to what my specialist was saying. Only a fool would continue to allow herself to feel like such utter rubbish due to weather and temperature and know that each year it gets a bit harder. A smart person would head to a place that is more compatible and sort out the other issues as she could. And I will get to that, once the pain subsides a bit. I think.
The four-footed one was eager to start her day this morning. She opted to start it before the sun had even come up. And start it with a walk around 2:30 in the morning. And after her walk, she wanted to play with her toys and then have breakfast.
The small fact that I was in the mood to sleep was irrelevant to her. After all a quest cannot be denied over a silly thing like sleep. Or the fact that the sun isn’t even up yet.
And once she started her morning bright and early, she was determined to make the most of it. Filling her time with play (no not playing by herself either because that would not be fun) and trying to acquire more food. She wasn’t successful on the more food front until I decided to run an errand and grab a coffee from the drive thru. At which point the lovely lady serving us said that if I was treating myself to a coffee, surely the dog should be treated to a dog cookie too. And she handed me a dog cookie at no cost.
The four-footed one was rather pleased with herself and her acquisition of food. And thus, having been rewarded once on her quest for food today, she kept trying to acquire more in between play time and the world’s shortest of naps.
When I turned eighteen, thought I would have all the answers and do what I was passionate about. When I turned twenty-one I realized I didn’t have all the answers, but I was much closers to knowing what all I needed did my passions would be set.
When I turned twenty-five, I knew I was on the path to having many things as I kept my passions and dreams at the fore front of things. I was so certainly that hanging onto what I thought were my passions and dreams wold give me everything I wanted. What I was holding onto were my parents ideas of passions and dreams. And what felt like it was burning bright was really just an idea repeated over a million times.
When I turned thirty I decided to explore what I really wanted and how to get it. A bit like getting to know myself all over again. And I realized I didn’t want of feel the same things my parents once held. I was carrying the ghosts of my parents’ dreams and passions.
When I turned thirty-five, I understood what it was to try to grasp your passions and feel the white-hot glow of something so brilliant you cannot even describe it.
Now that I’m older I get that the idea isn’t to necessarily achieve all of this for stability. After all stability can be overrated and is only what you make of it. The trick is to always grasp for and try to reach these dreams and passions, on matter here they take you. And no doubt when I turn seventy-five, if I reach that number, I will have a different idea of what a passion is
Beloved decided that he was in need of a massage, to get rid of the stress of family. Don’t get me wrong, he loves his family dearly. However his family can be a bit on the picky side of things when it comes to get togethers and such.
After much running around and collecting of items, making of dishes and sorting of seating arrangements Beloved simply had enough. He said he felt like his muscles would never relax again.
Thus his solution was a massage or two. And time away from everything else and everyone. Although the four-footed one would have happily walked on his back. She’s done it before, however Beloved doesn’t seem to welcome her effort.
So Beloved went to get his massage and came back a less tense man apparently. So less tense in fact that once he flopped in his favorite chair to give the four-footed one a bit of attention, he apparently melted into the chair and somehow fell asleep. With the four-footed one joining him in the nap.
Evidently this wee sleep ran into one of the family functions and he missed it. Not that he seemed too upset by it. And from what he heard back, he didn’t miss much. So maybe the massage was just what the whole family needed.
The four-footed one encountered a hedgehog today. Thankfully not a live I one for I a certain this meeting would not have ended well if she had found one! Instead she found a stuffed one complete with a red nose. And it was love at first sight. Or want at the very least.
Even more desirous than just the cuteness of this toy was the fact it belonged to another dog. Who doesn’t want something that someone else has after all. At least that’s her theory.
Frankly if someone had the plague I am pretty sure I’d never find that desirous. But perhaps that’s just me!
So civet this hedgehog did she. And try to take this hedgehog from the other dog was the plan. After all when she first discovered the hedgehog, it was nestled in a pile of blankets. And after her initial startled reaction (she accidentally moved the blanket which made the hedgehog move and she hadn’t noticed it before) that was it, want at first sight.
Since there was no other dog around, as far as the four-footed one was concerned, she didn’t even attempt to sneak away with the hedgehog. Oh no! She grasped the red nose firmly between her teeth and started to walk off with it. Which is when the other dog came into view. And proceeded to tug on the hedgehog’s bottom. Thank heavens for tough toys!
I have never felt truly empty or alone. To be honest, I have never really contemplated any of this either. Not until I heard someone mention that this is when he is reminded how alone he is and how empty he feels.
I can’t fathom feeling empty. I mean there is always something I feel within, something to drive or pushes me. And it seems so sad to think someone feels empty.
Alone is not the same as lonely. This I know. And I truly enjoy alone time. I enjoy my own company and haven’t sought out being with others to avoid being by myself. To me that would make me feel alone if I did it just be near people, but not really interacting with any of them. That would surely drive home the sense of being alone.
And until this man made this comment, it wasn’t something that ever really crossed my mind. And now that I have spent time thinking about it, I can’t shake how truly awful it must be to feel alone or empty. It is one thing to feel alone and enjoy it, but that isn’t what he was talking about. Perhaps he just hasn’t found that one thing he feels passionate about. That is sad,but not something destined to be a forever feeling if you open up to it.
For some reason, this time of year is the time of casseroles. At least according to a few of my good friends. One goes so far as to say that a good casserole is like a hug and who doesn’t want hugs around Christmas?
And so over the course of the day, I have been handed casseroles to get me through the long, dark winter nights when I don’t have time to cook. Basically I should be good for a few months if I don’t eating the same casserole dish for a week, before moving into the next casserole. Which typically isn’t an issue. And besides, it’s a hug I can pull out of the freezer when I need one.
One of the casseroles dropped off today was something lovingly referred to as “Chicken Crack Casserole Delight”. The friend who made and delivered this dish has assured me it is every bit as addictive as crack.
Naturally I had to ask how she knows it’s that addictive. And if she has had or at least tried crack in the past. For the record, she has not tried crack, she’s going by what others have told her, although she did let slip that she cannot say for sure that these third parties have tried crack either. But hey, what’s in a name!
A rosy glow filled the room. No it wasn’t the rising sun because this glow started before dawn and stayed long after dawn had come and gone. And it wasn’t the sunset either because the rosy glow greeted my eyes first thing when I woke up.
This rosy glow wasn’t even welcome, not by me. Because it was a sure sign lupus would be here for Christmas. And I can honestly say I have never said all I want for Christmas is a lupus rash. Or stiff joints. Or pain. Or kidney issues. Nope I can safely say I’ve never asked for these. Not for Christmas or any other day.
To be fair, lupus typically makes an appearance around Christmas or the new year at the latest. Soemtimes, in bold moments, lupus arrives before Christmas and sticks around for months. Hey what can I, I must be an amazing hostess, or something.
And I know it isn’t charitable, but it would be nice to have a lupus-free Christmas or start to the new year. Does this make me a Scrooge like person or a Grinch whose heart hasn’t grown in size? I hope not. It’s just I was looking for a low-key, simple Christmas.
Some people have pets that can detect when the person is ill or requires medical intervention. I have a pet that thinks I should ignore my health issues and cater to her every need and whim. As a matter of fact my dog has decided that my sole purpose in life is to not only give her what she wants, but to anticipate her desires before she has them fully formed.
It hasn’t been an ideal day lupus wise. I woke up feeling rather achy and crummy and it just got worse as the day wore on. I tried stretches, gentle rubs and finally medication. And had no relief. But did the dog care?
No she did not! She demanded play time and running around. She demanded attention and while I was resting with her, she took the comfortable part of the bed. Icing on this cake of a day is that she also took the blanket I threw on while resting.
Therapy dog she is not. Guide or aide dog? Nope she is neither of those. She is, however, a bratty diva of a dog. A much-loved bratty diva, but there are days I might question my sanity with her. And yet, despite how awful I feel and how demanding she is, now that she’s curled up and asleep on my legs, it’s all worthwhile!