RECYCLING ME

     It is great to awake once more with new direction to my days. I often find myself grinding sluggishly through a day-to-day existence through the winter months, wondering if  the time will ever come when I really desire to be productive again?
     Then one day the temperature rises moderately, a soft breeze replaces the freezing wind I've become so accustomed to feeling and the sunshine again has a welcoming brightness to the rays it sends down. There is a stirring deep within that tells me there is still a bit of creative life somewhere inside and it is about ready to hatch. I know it must be nurtured, kept warm and turned lovingly to keep it alive. So I go through files, read past compositions, arrange book signings, contact colleagues neglected through the winter months and gradually begin to write once again.
     Through my office window I see a lone clump of crocus, golden on the cold dead lawn, stretching toward the thin sunlight and I feel the words deep inside my being also reaching, reaching for the clean surface of the page before me.
     I've often said that it is a shame I had a built-in excuse to not write and make a living. I've always had a wonderful husband who has financed my lazy lifestyle. I've never been forced to sit myself down in front of the desk and produce in order to eat. True, I did work in the newspaper business for awhile and added to the family income in that manner and I did free-lance work also. But anyone who has ever written articles or books knows that one had better have a second income if he or she wants to eat anything other than beans nightly. My better half has always cheerfully allowed me to write when I wanted and never pressured me to "make money". Thank goodness. We would have starved.
     However, I might have lived up to my potential had I been forced to write constantly instead of whenever and whatever I chose. As it is, now and then I sit back and produce something we all crow over and most readers enjoy and I bask in the glow of their approval. But at night, in the dark, I hide my head under the pillow in shame.
     Well . . . 'nough said. A new anthology will be out in April and another of my stories will be in it and then a second one again in the fall plus  I have a juvenile mystery in the works so maybe I'm not entirely useless. Let's hope so.
     Now. I did think to tell you all about my trip but I got off track. So I believe I'll save some of it until the next post. There was so much and it was all so wonderful. First Paris and then Prague!  Ooooooo.lala.
     So. Until next time...au revoir!

BACK FROM THE DEAD...ALMOST

     At least I thought so. Well, not really. I've actually been sicker in the past but I don't think for much more extended length of time. And I admit I've been up and around for the last three weeks but I was so far behind and there was so much to catch up with (and still is) that blogs and extra writing was the last thing on my mind. (That isn't 100% true. My conscience has poked holes in me all along but it didn't do any good. There have just been too many other things going on!)
     Then day before yesterday I got an anxious e-mail from a dear friend in Atlanta: (Are you sick????) and a phone call from my sister in Ohio: (Are you sick???) so I figured I'd better get off my duff before people had me dead and buried and say "No, I'm alive and finally well again, thank you for caring."
     I suppose if I hadn't had a flu shot (and prior to this year) a pneumonia shot, I would have called it the flu. I felt like hell warmed over and dug holes in my bed for most of the time since Thanksgiving. I don't think I've had many holidays that I've had so much trouble getting through as this one. For the first few weeks I slept a lot but then I just felt terrible. It was one of those things with no fever so not many options concerning treatment . . . just suffer through it. (Bad enough for me but pity those who live in the same house, believe me!)
     Anyway, it is over now and I'm back to my regular aches and pains. I'm gradually getting the housework caught up (according to my own un-exact demands) if you don't count this set-back with a foot of snow and ice piled up around the house and drive. Naturally now I trip over two brooms, six throw rugs and a bent-up shovel as I walk through the front hall and I try to ignore the dripping muddy spots on the floor. But, shoot, I never worried much about a spotless house in the first place. I'll just ignore it all and continue down the hall to the dining area where I can look out through my floor to ceiling windows at the snow-covered vista and watch the scarlet cardinals and the bluejays tease Bagheera, the fat black cat, who is impatiently waiting at the backdoor for more- more- more food.
     In my bedroom stands a packed suitcase and a loaded backpack, ready and waiting for Saturday morning, when Number Two Granddaughter and I take off for a week in Paris and Prague. (Yes, I know . . . I've heard about marvelous April in Paris . . . but what about February in Paris??? Who knows what we've been missing?)
     To catch you up, this is my next-to-eldest granddaughter. She will be 21 the end of February and is going to the Czech Republic to study for a semester. So . . .(nice for me) she and I are going a week early and stopping in Paris for three days to explore and then on to Prague for another three days. Her university is about two and a half hours by bus away from there in Brno and  I will fly home after.
     We really are lucky that the storm came when it did. By Saturday all the airports should have their problems fixed (only Springfield and Dallas/Fort Worth would affect our plans) so we haven't really worried at all. I'll call Friday to make sure flight times haven't changed but I don't anticipate anything different.
     Of course, from what the weather is predicting, there may be more local storms next week so there's no telling what I'll encounter when I return but I will have left my girl for several months of intellectual enrichment such as every kid deserves.
     Next up is her brother (Number Two Boy and two more after that!) but I don't anticipate travel in his plans. Oh no. He wants to PLAY FOOTBALL! Then the next two boys and I doubt there is anything like that to interest them.
     Guess I'll have to wait for Number Three Granddaugher. She's only thirteen but I can wait.
     I never knew the rewards that came with having grandkids!

STILL WORKING ON IT

     Sorry to be so late but just to keep you all up to date...I'm still fighting this thing! It just about has me cornered and fighting to the last breath (and I MEAN it when it comes to breathing!). I'm just finishing up a round of meds and will call the doctor again in the morning.
     I AM getting better...just not well yet and I have no energy to speak of. Let me tell you, Christmas is no time to not have energy. We had one big celebration on Christmas Day with around thirty people here. I couldn't have made it were it not for my younger daughter and my niece (my older daughter had family responsibilities of her own that day. But we still have one more celebration (Christmas) set for New Year's Eve with a lot of people so I'm not out of the woods yet.
     Anyway, I'm going to live and I know I owe everyone an explanation so here it is...and when I get to feeling like myself I'll post again on a regular basis. I miss you all and I miss reading all the blogs and I apologize for it but I'm going to bed!
     If I don't post again until next week ...Happy New Year, Friends.

Pnew-Monia or Too Much Christmas?

     It hit me again. I feel so bad I can barely hold my head up but do you think I'm sick? Oh, no. Just feel like death warmed over. I sure feel my years when I get this stuff anymore. I just don't bounce these days. Dern.
     I've been to the doctor's offices though.  No, not to my MEDICAL doctor. Oh no. In the midst of doing my best to get all the shopping, decorating, wrapping, planning, etc., etc., etc., done, I also have end-of-year medical stuff that has to be done at a certain time so insurance will take care of it.
      So I go traipsing off to Springfield Christmas shopping on Monday afternoon and Tuesday for bone density tests and Reclast infusions which have absolutely nothing to do with how I'm feeling and only serve to make me worse because I'm so exhausted by the time I'm finished running around all over the place.
     Monday I spend the day fruitlessly searching for gifts for persons impossible to buy for in the first place. At 5:30 in the evening I give up and go across town to spend the evening in the company of my 13-year-old granddaughter while her parents attend a holiday dinner. When they return we visit awhile longer and I spend the night, making the next morning easier to manage.
     Coffee and a few bites of breakfast.
      Most medical layouts are somewhat the same so I'll describe my particular situation and you can use your imagination: the bone density test was at my medical facility, a very large spread-out building across the wide wide street (north/west) from the hospital we use if we are desperately ill. I go to Radiology (I'm there at 9:30 a.m.) where I sit for 45 minutes waiting to be called for the bone density test. The test and all that goes with it takes until 11:45. I leave and run run run around town to finish (???) shopping before my next appointment at 1:30. I return to the hospital facility. The building where I need to be is catty-corner from the one I was at earlier (south/east), forcing me to park in front of the hospital itself. Since all the parking lots were very full, I drive around and around, at last locating a spot at the very bottom of the emergency lot. After locking the car, I walk UP the hill all the way to the front entrance of the hospital, where I am directed down a long long hallway to the far end of the building, onto a ramp/walkway that goes ACROSS THE STREET to the building I need to be in. Then I take an elevator down to the lower level, walk all the way down the hall to the very end, check in, walk back to the elevator, take it to the lowest level, again walk all the way down the hall to the very end and have the procedure. Then I return to the car.
     I get home at 5:30.
     And I wonder why I feel so bad.
     All I have left to do is finish shopping, put up the tree and wrap the gifts. Oh, yeah, and plan for the family dinner(s).
     TWO.

It's Beginning to Look A Little Like Christmas

     Okay, I emptied the hall closet today. The one you couldn't get into without something tumbling onto your head. The one I stuck everything in LAST January and shoved with my foot as I closed the door. The closet no one dared open for eleven and one half months.
     It is lovely and neat now. It is nearly empty.
     On the other hand, there are boxes piled on the living room couch, the chairs, the floor and in the bedroom on my side of the bed and in front of the closet. Some are emptied and some are partially opened, papers and lids pulled and shoved out of place, so I can see what lies inside. Lights and stars are trailing across the floor and several dozen candles are scattered willy-nilly around the rooms.
     In other words, I'm decorating.
     Christmas is officially here. The stockings are hung by the chimney with care. Really and truly, even if what is left of the chimney from 150 years ago is only a partial plaster shape jutting out from the stairwell wall. And I doubt than anything larger than a mouse could possibly get down whatever opening might remain. Much less Santa Claus.
     But the stairs make a nice spot to place the majority of the decorated stockings and with the chimney behind holding the (self-purchased) three-foot stocking of one of the more optimistic grandsons, the living room begins to take on a very festive air.
     There aren't too many flat surfaces in my living room (at least ones that aren't permanently cluttered with books and papers) but now those that are available are covered with my collection of Santas and the odds and ends of small things accumulated through the years. Oddly enough, even the shabby worn ornaments take on some kind of glow when they've been uncovered after another year of being boxed up. One just can't give some of them up no matter how bad they look or how worn out they become.
     Over to my left is an empty corner, waiting for my daughter and grandson to return with our Christmas tree. Everything in the room had to be rearranged so the 'office' has temporarily turned into a storage room, the upright bass and guitar has been moved out of the living room, a couple of little tables have disappeared and some chairs are now crowded together. But do you think I'm giving up my floor-to-ceiling live Christmas tree? Over my dead body!
     And pretty soon it won't look a little like Christmas any more. It will look a LOT like Christmas.
     It's a good thing. Because it is coming much faster today than it was yesterday.
     As some good folks used to say, it seems to me that,  "The hurriered I go the behinder I get."

Cyber Week

     On-line Christmas shopping may use less gasoline than cruising the malls but I'm  here to testify its just as stressful. I've spent the better part of the day filling out forms, sending off orders, revising orders, canceling orders, putting in card numbers etc., etc., etc., until my head is spinning.
     I shouldn't complain. At least my legs don't hurt.
     And part of the shopping is finished. Only part, mind you. But, really, I'll get it finished in time. I promise. All I have to do is to come up with gifts for four grown men, three teen-age boys and a couple of small kids. Now the kids are no problem...if they were all kids it would be a breeze. (Oh, for the days!) And, I'm sorry, but I HATE handing anyone cash or cards or anything of the sort. I WANT to give gifts. I just can't think of anything appropriate.
     I'd bend and give the men lottery tickets because they could be fun but it would be just my luck for the one who has quite a bit to win several thousand dollars and the ones who really could use the cash to sit and watch with drool dripping off their chins. So that's out.
     Shirts? My husband is a good example. Do you know how many shirts there are in his closet? I'd hate to count. On top of that, he has an iron-clad policy to never let a piece of clothing go, even if he doesn't wear it. He has shirts that have never seen the light of day but do you think he will let me give them away? Oh, no. He might want to wear them someday. In reality, he wears one of perhaps four shirts all the time. (Two are exactly alike and I watch like a hawk to keep them washed.)
      Teens? Oh, right. They would take anything as long as it is electronic and costs over $500. I wish I had enough money to buy five I-Pads because they are all in love with mine. However . . . that's out.
     At least you can find things that women will like. Maybe only temporarily but they WILL like them. Women seem to just enjoy unwrapping shiny packages and exclaiming over glittering bracelets, unnecessary purses and scarves and jackets and strange kitchen gadgets, even while knowing they will never be used.
     Why do men and boys think you should NEED something to enjoy getting it?
     They should watch and learn. Christmas presents aren't about things you need. They're about things that are there to be unwrapped and exclaimed over.
     All the suffering I do? I wouldn't do it if it were'nt FUN in the long run.

Send Me to Glory in a Glad Bag@

     I despise trash.
     There is more trash generated in a day by this family than there is usable material that came inside it.
     On any given day, I fill at least one enormous black trash bag and haul it to the barrel outdoors. Most of the time there are two, but to be fair, sometimes I do put another half day in between gathering up all of it into disposable containers.
     Now, I know this is something my readers are not likely to be happy to find out but it is just one of those things: we still BURN!
     I know!
     I'll admit I'm a firm believer in re-cycling and I'm as concerned about the environment as the next one but until I live alone again (or at least just myself and my better half) I've given up. Burning is still allowed in our county and I am blessed to be able to do it. There is something soooooo satisfying about standing and watching those piles and piles and piles of trash turn into a thin column of black smoke, and then disappearing forever. It is almost addictive.
     I do manage to save all the newspapers and magazines and catalogs (what I can bring myself to give up) and donate them to the local re-cycling station in town. But I got sick and tired of digging through nine small and two large trash containers on a regular basis just in order to separate sticky nasty cola cans and plastic milk cartons.
     In this house, peace is kept by my refusing to become a small (!) dictator. So I just do my job the best way I can. In this case it means getting rid of all the garbage and trash in the most efficient manner I can manage.
     When the wonderful day ever comes that I can unwrap a package of something . . . anything . . . without removing sixteen layers of plastic hard enough to build a barn from perhaps I can rest. Wouldn't it be great to come home and put things away, knowing there was only one thin barrier between you and whatever  it is you are planning to use?
     But no . . . you never know. I might slink into the large discount store with my trusty little scissors or tiny pocket knife and make off with something val-u-a-ble, so I'm stuck with dealing with trying to remove tons of armour from whatever I've bought.
     Then I have to dispose of it too.
     Ergo: Bright burning, all-consuming Fire. . . until something better comes along.
     Oh, yeah. The title. I stole it from a friend of mine who wrote a wonderful funny song with that name. Didn't have a key on the computer with a copyright symbol so I just substituted the @ sign. Ain't I clever?