Breakfast In Bed Anyone

I am not a fan of breakfast in bed.  To be honest I’m not a fan of any meal in bed, this may be a result of too many hospital stays.  And then again, it may be a case of feeling that where I eat should not be the same place where I sleep.

This doesn’t mean that I don’t eat in bed, obviously that’s the case when I’m staying over at the hospital.  And yes it is true, Beloved has served me breakfast in bed a few times as well as other meals.  I just don’t enjoy it as much as some people seem to like eating in bed.

it isn’t just because of the crumbs and such getting in your sheets.  You see friends, I don’t spend a lot of time in bed when I feel well.  When I’m in a horrible lupus flare however I may spend days in bed.  Those days pass by in a blur of sleep, pain and medications.

Perhaps it is because I’m a product of my upbringing where unless I was very ill my parents expected me to be up and about doing things.  Heck my mother subscribed to the theory of get up and get dressed because you will feel better.  Sometimes it works, sometimes I don’t even have the energy to get out of bed.  At best I pull a brush through my hair.

So why am I telling you all this?  Because recently someone told me they thought the most decadent thing in the world was eating breakfast in bed.  Now I’m sure she didn’t mean the jello cups that I get in the hospital, but I just can’t see how eating in bed is decadent.  How about you?  Has lupus ruined a good thing for me?

Story Time With My Companion or The Luxury Of Reading

It’s been one of those days, the kind where I’d Ike to have spent it curled up with a good book.  A nice comfortable place to read with a delicious drink and the four-footed one resting right beside me.

The four-footed one enjoys story time.  She rather enjoys curling up in a comfortable place while I read.  I don’t even have to read to her, although when she is all over the place she seems to settle down when I start to read to her.  She doesn’t even care what the content is or if I start part way through the text.

And while today felt like it should have been one of those days to comfy and read while the dirty weather was out doing its thing, sadly there wasn’t time for such a luxury.  I had too many things to attend to today and thankfully I was able to take my companion along for the adventure.  Hopefully tomorrow will afford us the opportunity to settle down and enjoy a good book.  Especially since the weather people all have assured us more dirty weather is on the way, with even stronger winds and precipitation and we don’t have nearly as many things that must be done.

Getting On With Lupus or Luxuries I No Longer Have

A friend of mine phoned to see how I was doing today.  Really she phoned to talk about herself and her problems.  You see she recently broke her wrist and felt that she was unable to do anything now.

I tried to remember what it was like, when a broke wrist or ankle meant the end of all good things for a number of weeks.  I tried to empathize with her, but I probably failed.  You see when you have a chronic illness such as lupus, at some point you just have to get on with the getting on.  To be able to list all your woes and things you have lost is simply a luxury you no longer have.

Anything that takes away precious energy becomes a luxury that you simply cannot afford any longer.  Because energy is slow to come back.  And getting on with the whole business of living and trying to do normal things, basically just function takes up most if not all of your energy.

To be honest, I can barely remember what it was like when a broken wrist meant that I couldn’t do anything for six weeks.  She will, of course, muddle through life and get help while she is down to one wrist.  And then there will come a day when her wrist will fu cation again.  When she will be out of a cumbersome cast and be able to do the things she used to do.

And she will remember what it was lie to struggle a little. But she will be back to herself, more or less.  And I will be envious of her having only six weeks or so of inconvenience for a few moments before I get back to getting on with things.  Because being envious is a luxury I cannot afford because I just don’t have the energy  to spare for it.

So she may tell people I haven’t been as compassionate or understanding as she expected me to be when she phoned.  And I may not have been able to share her misery the way she wanted to.  And it isn’t because I wasn’t to be a dreadful person.  I just have to keep getting on with getting on because that’s life with a chronic illness such as lupus.

Sitting, In

I love a good protest. If it’s a staged sit-in type of protest all the better. Especially if the sit-in is indoors, with comfortable chairs, food, drinks and the ability to control the temperature. Oh yes and indoor plumbing and facilities. Oh and if you toss in electricity and television even better. Then I most certainly love a good sit-in.

Hey under those conditions, if you need someone to sit-in then I may just be the right girl for you! Have sit-in skills, will travel…sort of. But those types of protests hardly ever happen. I have seen them play out exactly twice. Both in places where I’d much rather not be. Simply because they tend to be the places where you don’t have the ability to leave when you want. Of course those places also tend to not let you do what you want when you want. I know, you’d think it was a prison or something…and you’d be correct in that guess.

Now I’ve been to prison before, but never as a guest. Well not an over night guest. Rather a guest of a guest who is staying over night. Perhaps several over nights. Maybe over a number of years. But when I was able to witness these protests take place in these places of institutionalized containment (I like the way that sounds. Some more pleasing than prison, which comes rolling harshly off your tongue.) I can assure you they didn’t go in keeping with my plans for a staged sit-in.

For me a staged sit-in would be in a very comfortable building, with a nice view, good televisions (just in case I get bored). It would have good lighting for me to read my books and what have you. I need electricity to play with my electronic devices aka cellphone, tablet, laptop, e-reader. Oh and a variety of food must be available as well as unlimited great coffee. So I guess also washrooms. Heating and air conditioning, just in case. Oh yeah and I have to get along with all the other people who are protesting. Yep and then I’m good.

In other words I don’t really have anything to get to up in arms about right at this moment so I can think in terms of a comfortable sit-in. It isn’t that I do not get behind causes, I do. I just happen o be worn out, drained and rather not in the mood for a protesting so I haven’t found my next one to look at.

You see I live in privilege, where I can pretty much do what I want (within the norm of my society). But every day, all around the globe, there are people who don’t have this luxury. There are also people who cannot protest via a sit-in whether it’s in comfortable surroundings or not. Some people don’t dare protest vocally for fear of never being able to protest again. Due to that whole being dead threat. Others protest despite that threat, reasoning that dying to while trying to make a difference is better than sitting there and hoping someone else will make that difference happen for you.

And sometimes a sit-in isn’t going to do anything. Some protests demand energy, some demand loud voices and marching feet. How many have passed by that I’ve failed to notice or deemed unworthy of a protest? Am I right to judge that? Probably not, because I haven’t lived in their shoes and known their pain and suffering.

I also don’t have the energy or frankly the desire to protest everything right now…again if I were to become a professional protestor that may change. I’m stopped for pursuing this career by a few things: the whole prison thing, the discomfort and I’ve been told it doesn’t’ pay well. I should really protest the very fact that being a professional protestor has horrible pay with little to no benefits…maybe I will do that in the sit-in form! 🙂

The Problem With Too Perfect, or My Neighbor’s Yard

My neighbor has the most incredible yard.  The grass is a soft, lush carpet that tickles between your toes when you take it up on its invitation to walk barefoot amongst its cool blades.  The fountain burbles happily in harmony with the song birds, with just the right amount of noise.  The flowers, oh how sweet the scent is that they release into the air, beckoning you to follow your nose.

To be honest my neighbor’s yard is almost too perfect in its perfection.  From a distance you can’t believe it’s all real, and yet it is.  The green grass, is in fact cut precisely  so and the edges trimmed with scissors.  Dead flowers and leaves are immediately removed so as not to interfere with the vibrancy of the living plants.  Rachel venting the fountain and the bird bath are scrubbed to maintain a nice clean glow.  Furniture gets wiped down daily, sometimes more than once and water markets are polished off the tables.

My neighbor takes great delight in the harmony and beauty she has been able to help cultivate.  She says keeping it pristine and lively is healing for her, a cheap and natural form of therapy that is far above any man-made type.  She says the soil, water, sunshine and wind all play a key role in keeping things looking as they should.  Nature, she points out, always provides what is needed.  I have a feeling she thinks the extravagant measure some people take to find perfection within their yards is missing the point since nothing can, in her mind, surpass the luxury of nature’s simple beauty.

Granted some would call trimming the grass with scissors a bit much and what’s wrong with the water spots left as proof to nature’s touch?  But to me the continual removing of the dead things is unnatural, as if to defy the cycle of life and acknowledge the beauty in death that nature presents.  Nothing ever dies without some amazing show, the end of life being the last vibrant burst of color or scent.  To remove the dead flowers is, in some unnatural for surely they still have work to do.  And without meaning to, the remind me to live each day to its fullest, in full color.  They remind me that life passes by whether we spend our time living it fully or conservatively in the shadows.

My yard, by comparison may have grass, but it’s nothing compared to my neighbor’s.  My riot of colors provided by plants and flowers that form their own haphazardously display is eye-catching in its own chaotic way.  Just because my yard will never be thing of envy in the way my neighbor’s is, doesn’t make it any less.  Any less colorful, beautiful, inviting or magical.  All in its own way.

How Clouds Give Me Gratitude

I walked down to watch the boats coming and leaving.  The water was perfect today for sail boats and they were out in full force.  I have no clue how people maneuver these crafts so gracefully, but it sure is a sight to behold.

the breeze was just enough on land so sure it was stronger, but not too strong on the water.  Sails billowing and then settling again in a rhythm as old as time itself I guess.  On land it was not quite enough for flying a kite, but maybe on the water it would be.  Of course we don’t have a sail boat.  Neither of us has a clue how to operate one.  And with our luck we’d end up in the water ourselves, or worse always be heading on the wrong direction!😉

The problem with watching sail boats, at least for me, is that I tend to watch the clouds slip across the sky after a little bit.  I guess their movements are a bit like watching the sail boats on the water.  Hmm, clouds as the universe’s sail boats! 😊

The problem with watching the clouds dance gracefully across the vast sky is that I lose all track of time.  Today was no different.  What I planned as a two-hour outing stretched beyond four.  To be honest, I was just heading back to the house when Beloved and the dogs passed by looking for me.

Climbing into the car, Beloved asked me what all I did today.  So I told him I was watching nature and having gratitude.  I’m grateful to spend time Dreaming about the luxuries my freedom provides me.  I’m blessed to be able to spend time like this, frittering it away according to some.  I’m fortune to be able to set time aside to just enjoy basic things because my needs have already been met.  I know others don’t have this luxury.  Some struggle just to find enough food for the next meal.  Others search for some sort of shelter and still others live each moment in fear of what may happen next.  I wish we all could spend some time gazing up at the clouds, wondering at their marvellous movements and feeling so grateful to be able to do is, just because we can.

You Sleep Where?

Young children, it seems, can sleep anywhere and through just about anything.  I’ve seen them sleeping during fireworks going off.  I witnessed a few fall asleep while eating.  And some have dropped into the depths of slumber in the midst of play.

I have been told that old men can do the same thing if given the chance.  I doubt old men fall sleep in the midst of eating or while busy playing.  Maybe they do.  If I’m lucky Belived will provide me with the answers! 😉

But somewhere along the lines some of us develop this weird thing.  This odd habit that prevents some of us from sleeping any where, any time, no matter how tired we are.

What happens?  What turns us from having a very natural thing, sleep, become a very private affair?  Why do some of us startle at a slight sound or the shifting light?  Why is it, no matter how loud and desperate our body gets for sleep we simply cannot achieve this if we are in a public place or away from bed?

Now lease don’t think I want to fall asleep  in my oatmeal, or when I’m driving or working.  But just once I’d like to have the luxury of knowing that if I needed to, I could sleep on a plane, or in a chair in the middle of the day.