On Fairy GodMothers, Rescuing Kittens and Welcoming Summer ...

 

Cocoon, Sweet Cozy Cocoon

This promises to be an interesting summer.  It started with my (at long last) meeting Most Marvelous Magical Wondrous Fairy GodMother Martha and the Most Excellent Master Exchequer Jock.  I have to say they are truly one of the most beautiful couples ever.  They traveled to my neck of the woods just to see me, can you imagine?  Something that truly touched my heart and made them even more special (if that were possible) to me.  Their visit set off a rather spectacular chain of events for me.

 

The first being my driving to see them at the beach.  Miami Beach was a favorite place of my parents.  We would drive there at the crack of dawn to see the sun rise, spend the day in the water ... yes, my Mom and I would have lunch actually IN the water (with my Abuela tsk-tsking from shore saying "You are going to get indigestion!" but we never did) and my Dad keeping us supplied with cool drinks and sandwiches, while he kept Abuela company.  He would periodically bring us suntan lotion, which smelled like coconuts, and make sure we slathered it on.  Those were days when I didn't worry about sun damage, I just wanted to get as tan as possible.  One summer I even trotted a bottle of Sun-In out to the water with me and periodically doused my hair with it.  By summer's end I looked like I was wearing a calico cat on my head, with splotches of varying VERY odd orange hues mixed in with my natural really really dark brown.  I thought I looked fabulous.  My Mom promptly marched me to her hairdresser when it was time to get ready for school and that is when I got my very first pixie cut.  All those odd orange splotches came off.  I felt like a newly shorn sheep, but liked having really short hair, simple upkeep, just shampoo, condition and go.

 

Noelle at the Beach

Driving to the beach to meet Martha and Jock, however, brought back all sorts of conflicting emotions and memories, I'd just as soon keep locked up and put away.  But, nope, they all came flooding back as I navigated the streets of South Beach, got quite lost and wound up stopping a police car for directions (and God bless that lovely cop who told me I was on the right street, just going the wrong way).  Pretty soon I was (again) driving past Jock and Martha, only THIS time I saw them and finally I arrived.  I was a bit worried about meeting them, it's one thing to email, correspond and speak with someone on the phone and another to meet them face to face.  But it was like seeing friends you have known forever.  Hugs were exchanged and we sat down for a chat.  They both have the most extraordinarily blue eyes that just beam.  I met the oh, so lovely, friendly, loving Noelle who greeted me with doggie kisses and promptly stole my heart.





Edwin Valentino!

Martha introduced me to Edwin Valentino, who was patiently waiting on a tabletop.  He is quite enchanting and I was so very happy to meet him and know he was coming home, with me!  Soon we were walking across the street for a most delicious lunch, consisting of the most beautiful Caesar salad ever and truly deeeeelish salmon and veggies.  We talked for what seemed like hours, then walked back to their hotel where Jock retired for a rest and Martha and I headed to my Cozy Cocoon.  It was a sprinkling off and on kind of day, but to me it was sunshiny, I had my Fabulous Magical Most Wondrous Fairy GodMother Martha with me!  For the day!  Martha is one of the most ALIVE people I have ever met.  She just exudes this joy of life.  When you are speaking with her, she concentrates on you.  She reminded me so much, her personality, her talent, kindness, of my beloved MiaMamma, I believe they would have been great friends.  And Jock is quite handsome and charming, an Old World gentleman.  They are truly one of the loveliest couples.  They just seem so happy to be in each other's company.  I love seeing that.  It is a rare gift.

 

Beautiful couple

Backtracking to a week before the visit ... One morning leaving for the office, I heard meowing from underneath my car.  Peering underneath, I didn't see anything under there.  Fearing a cat or kitten had gotten inside the motor, I popped the hood, but didn't see anything in there either.  So, I carefully backed out, really, really slowly and what did I find, but two tiny kittens, eyes beginning to open.  The Momma Cat was there too, but I couldn't very well leave them lying on the asphalt of the parking area, so I scooped them up and put them on the grass and drove off to work.  Came home that afternoon and there were the two kittens, but no Momma.  Then I see my neighbors walking towards me, holding yet another kitten.  They told me they had heard a meowing from their car and, long story short, the Dad, bless him, took the motor apart and found this teeny tiny kitten under the car battery.  How he got there, I have no clue, but that's where he was.  The Momma Cat, they said had been pacing up and down, trying to get at the motor, when he was tinkering under there trying to find the kitten and they had to keep shooshing her away.  So, I went and got the other two, put all three kittens in a box with old towels and we put them on my terrace under the roof overhang, thinking, okay, once the Momma Cat sees all three of them safe and sound, she'll take them.  But, that was not the case.  Next morning there they were, meowing their lungs out, hungry, no Momma Cat to be seen.  My neighbor, Josefina, fed them during the day and kept an eye out to see if Momma came back, but never saw her.  When I got home that afternoon, Thursday, there were only two kittens in the box.  One of the two that I had put on the grass and the teeny one from my neighbors' car.  Josefina, her husband and their two girls searched high and low for the third kitten, didn't find him.  In the meantime, it was thunder-rumbling and we couldn't very well leave those two little ones outside, sooooo ... in they came with me.  I got my big laundry basket, more old towels and plunked them in there after feeding them a bit of milk with a little syringe thingie Josefina had been using to feed them.  Friday morning they were very perky and trying their best to crawl out of the basket, so I put my beautiful antique tole tray on top.  That fixed that problem!

 

Saturday morning, it was off to Pet Supermarket to buy Kitten Milk Replacement Step 1 (i.e, KMR 1), two sets of baby bottles, a vitamin supplement, a flea comb, and pee-pee pads.  They both took to the KMR 1 and Josefina said she would feed them during the week while I was at work.  That was one hectic week, they got a bit stronger and were soon walking around and the basket was quite confining.  During the week they had two baths (with Dawn) each to eradicate the flea issue.  I was not about to let Bella Bella Smokey Noella (who I must say was VERY patient with me taking so much time to care for the kittens) get fleas from the two young ones.  They were very good about their baths, holding very still and letting me soap them up, then towel them off and dry them with the blow dryer on low.  Flea issue solved.  The following weekend Martha and Jock arrived on Sunday, I took Monday and Tuesday off for their visit.  That Sunday my neighbor and I went to Lowe's and bought plumbagos and ferns and Josefina, bless her, planted them for me, so my garden would look a bit more decent for FGM Martha's visit.

 

Fairy GodMother Vibes

Okay, back to the Fairy GodMother Visit.  When FGM Martha and I arrived at the Cocoon, she asked to see the kittens and I brought the basket out.  She looked them over and said she was not worried about the bigger one, but the little one looked like he needed help.  The big one would suck down a whole bottle no problem.  The little one not so much.  She held both of them and kissed each one in turn.  After a while I drove her back to the beach, where we took a little detour and drove around a bit, I came upon a lot of places from a long-ago time.  It was a bit unsettling, nostalgic, surreal somehow seeing these places again while in the company of FGM Martha.  I dropped her off and drove back home.  That night the little one had almost a full bottle, something he'd never done before.  I'm thinking it was the Fairy GodMother vibes ...

 

Little Bit

The next day Martha and Jock were off to Atlanta and I puttered around at home.  Went to Pet Supermarket and bought KMR 2.  Well, the little one took to it like a duck to water!  He sucked down a whole bottle, belched and then went to sleep right in my hand!  The big one did the same.  I decided to name them Little Bit and Moose, respectively.  Two weeks went by.  I called a shelter that said it was a no-kill shelter and made plans to take them there.  Which brings us to last weekend.

 

Moose



Friends Make One's Heart Happy

My friend Marny came over at the crack of dawn, we put the kittens in the carrier.  By this time they were eating Purina Kitten Chow moistened with KMR 2, drinking from a little water dish and using the litter box (improvised with disposable aluminum cake pans, since they are still way too little to get inside a real litter box).  When we got to the shelter we were informed they were too little, should still be with their mother (frikking DUH!) and if I left them there, they would be euthanized, they were too sick and too little for them to take.  I asked if they were that sick, could I be with them when they put them to sleep and they said no.  Well, that set me to crying buckets, they were so harsh and nonchalant about euthanizing the babies.  Marny said they couldn't be that sick, they were eating well, doing their business and playing, that's not a sick kitten.  I grabbed them back, put them in the carrier, called the vet down the street from where I live, who told me to bring them over and he'd take a look at them.  God bless that man.  He checked them out tip to toe, gave them each a shot, gave me some pills, said they were perfectly healthy for having been abandoned and told me to bring them back in two weeks.  He said there was no need to euthanize them, they'd be fine.  The KMR 2 and Kitten Chow were excellent for them, just make sure they always have fresh water and they'd be fine.  Marny and I came home, hauled out the big kennel and set it up, we put several pretty boxes in there for them to play and sleep in, another disposable "litter" box, their water and they have been happily in there ever since.  I think I may wind up keeping them.  Unless I can find a good home, but it's kitten season and there are lots and lots of kittens out there.  At the ripe old age of 57, I am a new momma again.  Sunday, my other beautiful Fairy GodMother, Ruby, came over.  We were to meet Jim at his place and see his movie, but on our way it started pouring so much, you could hardly see the road, we called Jim and rescheduled, we turned around, ordered pizza and watched Cirque du Soleil, Worlds Away.  Oh, my.  I've always said FGM Ruby's hugs are healing and they are, they truly are.  It poured off and on.  We munched on pizza and talked.  It was a lovely, soothing, healing afternoon, much needed after Saturday's fracas! 

Bella Bella Being Naughty

This week has been hectic and stressful at work, but that is SOP. My lovely boss is off on vacation, bless her. She needs the break, although she will be keeping an eye on things this first week since we have three major filings due.  But we'll be fine.  Between work, traffic, the kittens, I am whooped by bedtime.  But it's good, it's good.  My beautiful baby girl, Bella Bella Smokey Noella greets me at the door every night.  First I feed the outside ones, then I feed her.  After she finishes dinner, she goes off to bed, I close the bedroom door and proceed to The Kittens.  They are very playful and make a mess, but they are happy.  I clean the kennel, they do their business in the litter box, but still scatter a lot of sand when covering up.  Put down clean pads, a new litter box, wash their food dish and their water dispenser, while they run amok on the sofa.  Fix them a bottle each, fix their Kitten Chow drizzled with KMR 2, give them their pills, their multivitamin.  Then put one inside the kennel and give the other one his bottle.  Then take the first one out of the kennel, put the one that had his bottle in, and give the other one his bottle.  THEN it's into the kennel for both and that's when they get the Kitten Chow, which they promptly chomp on.  I open the bedroom door, turn on the tv, Bella Bella Smokey Noella joins me on the sofa for some snackies and a bit of tv and then it's off to bed, where she gets more snackies and I read.  Sleeping quite well lately, blessed be.

 

HRH Bella Bella Smokey Noella

Bella Bella Smokey Noella has been quite the lady about this development.  I am making sure she gets lots of attention, love and snackies from me.  Once the vet gives them a clean bill of health and they are a bit bigger, I will let them out to play with her.  For now, she just sits on the sofa or on the table and looks at them.  But when I take them out to play on the sofa, I put her in the bedroom and she's good with that.  Right now they are napping in one of their little boxes, they sleep all curled up together.  They are eating well and thriving.  All we need now is to get them snipped and possibly declawed, Smokey has no claws and I do not want them accidentally harming her with those sharp little nippers!

 

Interestingly enough, going back to Martha's visit, one of her remarks made something in my head go "click" like when something is turned on or a lock is opened and your mind expands and goes "Oh, yeah, she's right!"  Upon meeting, when we sat down to chat she looked at me and just beamed.  I told her "I told you I was very, very round and a Pillow Whimble!" and she smiled and said "But, really, you are tiny!  You would be teeny tiny should you lose weight!" And suddenly I remembered, recovered, found, the right word eludes me, but it was like a door opening to a time when I really was small and felt so ... free.  I had beautiful clothes and could walk, run, BE and not be in constant pain.  Ever since that day I have been eating healthy, salads, fresh fruit, LOTS of water, homemade soup, lentil soup and split pea soup being the current favorites.  Practically eliminated sugar, except for my weekend cafe con leches.  I've lost weight enough that I notice my clothes becoming looser and I feel happy in a way I have not felt for a very long time.

 

My lovely boss, JTM, mentioned an eating plan called the 5/2 diet (I do NOT like the "D" word), where you eat healthy for 5 days and fast for 2. Got the book from amazon, along with Nate Berkus' Home Rules.  Loooove him.  It's not really fasting, at least to my way of thinking, because you are allowed 500 calories on fast days, 600 calories for men, SO unfair.  She told me to get the phone number of a restaurant near our office which delivers and all their meals are under 500 calories.  One of my favorite co-workers had been there for lunch with her.  Got the number and have been ordering from them, they have deeeelish salads, some with grilled chicken, others with just veggies, plus shakes, sandwiches, which are all really filling AND under 500 calories.  It has made lunch all the better for me.  When I'm home, it's soup and a yogurt (low-fat) for supper.  LOTS of water.  Drink coffee only on weekends for the most part. I feel better about myself than I have in a long, long time.  Oh, the idea of being able to wear pretty clothes again!

 

Little Desk

So, meeting Fairy GodMother Martha, keeping the kittens, losing some weight, friends pulling for me, writing again, really writing, renewing my lease for one more year, being employed which is SUCH a blessing these days, Fairy GodMother Ruby's visit, feeling happy, it looks like this is going to be a very good summer.  The other night two Mormon missionaries knocked on my door, as always I welcomed them and we talked for a bit.  They asked if they could pray for me and what blessings would I like from the Father?  I told them I am incredibly blessed, but if they would pray for two friends for me, I'd really appreciate it.  We prayed together and when they left I told them anytime they're in the area, please knock, if I am home I will answer.  It was nice praying together. A visit with Most Fabulous Fleaing Magical Fairy GodMother Stephanie (a/k/a Estefania Queen of the Macedonian Fairy GodMothers) is coming up. Every morning I give thanks to the Father for protecting us through the night, for my life, for always being there for me and mine.  As I told the two Mormon missionaries, I am blessed, I am blessed, I am blessed.  The first half of this year was filled with quite a few bumps and snargles, but also with lots of joy, an unexpected visit from one of my Talley friends, Jodie, was restoring and faith-affirming, Martha and Jock's visit, they came to Miami just to see me, that was, is and always will be a truly special gift.  This month friends' children graduated some from grade school and others from high school, oh my!  One of them turned 21, and I reminded their mother even though her daughter, that lovely, beautiful child is now 21, we will ALWAYS be in our 30s, ha!  There is a new baby in the friemily.  My pain issue is somewhat under control.  I am continually reminded of my blessings, the blessings of faith, a job, true friends, life.  The blessing of, finally, allowing myself to let go and be ... happy.  No longer scared of having the happy suddenly snatched away, because even if it is, at least I will have held it and set it free for this moment.  Like I said, looks like a very good summer.

 

Okay, I have yammered on long enough.  Until next time, be safe, be blessed, be loved and keep the faith!  Sometimes faith, that little stubborn light that refuses to be extinguished and reminds us there IS a light at the end of what can sometimes be a very winding and dark tunnel, is the one thing that keeps us going!  Remember when the snargles threaten, when the dementors flap their nasty little wings, remember to click your heels together (even better if you are wearing ruby-spangled slippers), have faith and repeat "There's no place like home!"  Home, where your memories live, where loved ones smile at you, where you are linked to the past, relish the present and look forward to the future.

 

Wizard of Oz Decoupage on Little Desk ...
There's NO place like Home!
Blessed, blessed Home!



05-03-26

Yesterday would have been your birthday.  It will be 16 years on July 31 of this year since you ... transitioned, still have trouble with that concept.  Still have trouble wrapping my brain around the fact that when I call out your name, you are not there.  Oh, you answer, sometimes.  Or at least that is how I like to think, when the answer to a problem I have been wrestling (well, you know me, more like obsessing) pops into my head.  Or when I am cooking and get inspired to try something new. Like the other day when I was supposed to bake brownies for Steph and instead remembered she likes lemon poppyseed cake, so I made that instead. Only when I was getting ready to glaze it, I just got into my head to do a chocolate glaze over the lemon glaze (the chocolate color over the pale lemony yellow looked so pretty) and then take a caramel-filled chocolate bar, chop it up and sprinkle it over the top.  It was darn hard to not take even a sliver of it, it was a Herculean effort in fact.  But I delivered it to her in the very pan you used to bake loaf cakes in, along with some other lovelies for her.  She sounded so sad when we talked earlier in the week and she told me about little Brennan, thankfully the surgery went well and his tests look promising! I've got all my prayer angels on duty.  But she sounded so sad that day and Steph has been such a good, good friend, I wanted to make her something really yummy and have her be the one receiving lovelies, instead of giving them which she always does.  Every time we get together it's like Christmas, she finds the best presents ever.  So, thank you very much for the inspiration to do the lemon and chocolate glazes with the candy bar chopped up.  I know that came from you.

Today I woke up relaxed and happy.  Have been sleeping well again, I'm guessing it's the new meds
which have helped tremendously with the back issue.  I woke up thinking of a conversation I had with someone recently about Heaven.  They don't believe in Heaven.  They believe you just go to sleep until the Day of Judgment.  Did not want to get into an argument (what's the point?), but I did tell them "Listen, you have your beliefs, I have mine.  All I know is, one day I am going to wake up and smell pancakes and my Dad will be in the kitchen making breakfast and my Mom will be in the garden setting up the table, along with my Abuela who will be cutting roses to put in a vase for the table.  My Abuelo will be smoking a cigar, smile on his face looking at them.  And I will be home."  Because that is what you four are to me.  Home.  Plain and simple.  Home.  I don't care if it's a shack by the sea, a cottage in the woods, or an abandoned railway car, if you are there, it's home.

I think you would like my little cocoon.  It is little, but I often think if I had two more rooms it would be ideal for us.  We'd all have our own bedrooms and Abuela would make amazing meals in the little kitchen.  The little garden would flourish year-round, not in fits and starts like it does under my care.  I really have got to get it into shape before Martha and Jock's visit ... in two weeks!  I do  not feed any toads, thank you very much.  Although there is one I have named Professor Toady Woggles, who visits once in a blue moon.  Just plops into the outside cats' (yep, still feeding those, the number varies) water dish, gets it all stinky and then leaves in the morning.  I tried putting another water dish out, but then there were TWO toads.  Oish.

Making vegetable soup and cranberry orange bread today.  That will be my dinner for the week, vegetable soup, maybe yogurt for dessert.  Lots of water.  Trying to eat healthier.  Still make my weekend brunches though.  Pancakes, sausage, scrambled eggs, café con leche and buttered toast with one corner bitten off.  Sometimes I'll do cheesy grits instead of toast.  You did love your grits!  My soups tend to be of the "everything but the kitchen sink" variety.  If it's a vegetable, it's getting chopped up and going in there. They never taste the same way twice.  This one has lots of carrots, tomatoes, little potatoes, corn, red beans, garlic, onions, mushrooms, lima beans and okra.  Smells really, really good!  I miss your soups, Daddy.

I miss talking with you about anything and everything under the sun.  The sound of your laughter mingling with Mom's at the end of the day, while I arranged roses in Mom's favorite vase and listened to your voices.  I miss our life.  Still and all, I do recognize my many, many blessings.  The blessings of simple, everyday things, routine, my faith, my friends, job.  I  have started buying roses again.  Had stopped because of budget issues, then realized I spend more on lunch weekly than what two dozen roses from Li cost, so out went the buying lunch, in came the roses.  I've lost a few pounds and am much happier.  Roses make me smile.

I hope you are having a bang-up birthday celebration in Heaven.  With lots of cake, arroz con pollo,

tostones.  I am thankful for every second you were in my life.  Good times, bad times, rough times, you always had my back.  One of my favorite memories is one day Abuela was telling you I was way too opinionated for someone my age (I was 12) and you said "I will never have to worry about her.  She will always do what she wants and will speak her mind.  She will listen to you and then she will turn around and do what she thinks is best for her."  The time I was heartbroken, you kept trying to get me to laugh and I could not stop crying over this guy you had, since the start, told me was not good. I was in my 20s and thought my world was ending.  I overheard  you telling Mom "I wish I could put both of you inside a bubble so that not even a rose petal could harm you."  You made me feel safe, protected, loved.  Even in the most terrifying, scariest times.  The day we were on the way to the hospital, where both MiaMamma and your brother were fighting for their lives and we were facing a horrific investigation, and I lost it on the way to the hospital, crying and shaking, you pulled over, hugged me so, so tight and told me "Remember, this too shall pass. Have faith."  And it did pass and you, MiaMamma and me built a new life and it was filled with joy and laughter and gratitude.  You remained calm among chaos.  Always admired that about you.  There have been times when that faith you, MiaMamma, Abuelo and Abuela instilled in me since the cradle has been the one thing that's kept me going and, relatively, sane.  My faith, my parents, my life.  A continuous circle.  Never-ending, ever-present.

Give my love to MiaMamma and the Abuelos and everyone else.  And remember, one day I'll be walking around the corner and I'll be home, for good.  Happy Birthday Daddy, you are still my hero.

Boston

Home

Have not posted for quite some time, been in and out of a deep blue funk.  Don't know where it came from, it was just there one day.  Like a big, old toad sitting in the middle of my happy and refusing to budge.  No matter how many pep talks I gave myself, how many "I Am Grateful For ..." lists I made, how many brunches and gab sessions with friends, I was still in a funk.  The nasty, warty toad would hop off for a while, but it'd be back and just sit there.  It was really bugging me.  Normally I can shake off the blues pretty well.  I mean, truly I know how very, very blessed I am.  Appreciate everyone and everything I have around me.  Good friends, my cocoon, my job (even though at times it makes me nuts, but that's normal).  One of my friends who tends to be a bit of a sourpuss always looks at me, snorts and says "You are just too damn happy sometimes!"  It's not a sappy-foolish happy, I really do appreciate those around me, the little things which add up to the big things.  I know there's a lot of hurt out there and I am blessed to be inside a nice, safe, protected little bubble most of the time.  So it was really annoying me that I could not shake this toad off me.  I was feeling more tired every day, to the point it took a Herculean effort to get out of bed and off to the office every day.  Stressed to the max. Panic attacks back in full force.  Stepping out onto my porch was a white-knuckle, sweaty palm deal every single morning.  Combined with the whiny bitters.  Ugh.

My Lovely Whimble Journal

My friends and my Trifecta Plus One blogs and websites  (Rx For the Soul, Hollye Jacobs' and Frances Schultz' blogs and my beloved Whimbles), and a LOT of praying and journaling, have kept me (relatively) sane during this bump in the road.  Writing for my beloved Whimbles.  I do love sending those little stories off and then seeing them transformed into these wonderful gems in the Whimble Diary.  Writing in general.  And God bless my neighbors who, when a particularly nasty panic attack made its presence known, ran over and held my hand until it passed and I was on back on, sort of, even keel.  Plus my pretty little garden was decimated by some odd creature who just chomped on all my plants, from my roses to my jasmine and even my hanging basket of different types of mints, all chomped on, gone, eaten down to little nubs, except for the plumbagos and ferns, thank Heavens they have survived.   My gardener says it may be a possum, but I've never heard of a possum scaling a wall to get at a hanging basket.  Besides the possums around here are quite well-fed, they eat dinner with the little homeless cats I feed every night.  The first possum I saw freaked me out, I couldn't figure out if it was a really, really big rat or some kind of weird-looking skunk, in my defense it was dark and all I saw was that snout with a white stripe and little beady eyes.  Don't know who was more shocked the possum or me.

Finally had it with feeling sick and tired, went to see a new doctor this past Monday.  Diagnosis, arthritis, herniated disc and a serious Vitamin D deficiency which was the main culprit for feeling so darn dragged-out tired.  These issues are being addressed, series of B12 shots, some new meds, I am feeling perkier already and it's only been a few days.  Monday afternoon I was sitting at my desk, grousing about some judge who has to make everything complicated, then a weird kind of quiet came over our office, which is usually really, really chatty, I heard one of the girls say "Oh, no, no, no!" and I clicked on cnn.com.  The news about Boston had just hit and in a heartbeat the world changed.  Perspective shifted to what is REALLY important.  It was deja vu.  Memories of 9/11.  It had happened again.  In a smaller venue, but just as horrific.  Just as heinous.

My first response whenever we are attacked, whether as a country or as individuals, is anger.  Then retaliation.  I feel very protective about the U.S.  Having essentially lost one country, I am very protective of this one.  I always say we are continually bashed in the news, both national and international, yet we are the only country people consistently want to come to and risk their lives to enter, no matter how lousy they claim we are.  They come here, complain about it, but they don't leave.  And they do here what they would never do in their country.  I realize some of that is because of the extraordinary freedoms we have (and a lot of us take for granted).  But still, those that come here, then turn around and moan and whine about how horrible we are, it's like WTF?  Didn't you WANT to come here?  Yeah, okay, we're not perfect, granted.  But, shoot, if we are such a mess then why did you choose to come here?  Hello?  That attitude bugs me, always has, always will.  To have slugs trying to sow the seeds of terrorism here angers me.  Terrorists are not heroes, they are not brave, they are not warriors fighting for a cause they believe in.  They are cowards who attack innocents.  Bullies who hide their faces and drop their hideous packages, then slink away to watch their mayhem unfold from a safe distance.  They are the worst of humanity, who seek only to destroy, terrify.  Obliterate good, beauty, destroy our soul.  My first reaction was anger, a deep, horrible anger.  Then I remembered right after the London bombings some years ago, the website that had sprung up with the slogan "No Fear."  I love that.  I saw the people running not away from, but towards the victims, seeking to help.  I saw the slogan of "No Fear" come to life and I thought, oh, you whoever you are, you faceless cowards, you are nothing.  If you think you are going to make us run, you are way off.  We will not cower, we will not run and hide.  We will come through this.  We will persevere.  We are AMERICANS.

 

Beauty

Reading Frances Schultz' blog post entitled "What We Can Do About Boston" the next day, Tuesday, the 16th, got me inspired to post again.  It's been far too long since I got on my well-worn soapbox.  She answered one of her readers' comments with this wonderful quote "We always have a choice to act. It is in believing we do not have choices that we become victims in the energetic sense." I wrote and asked her if I could quote her, she answered, gracious as always, saying she had gotten it from Christel Nani, founder of the Center for Spiritual Responsibility.  I love that quote, it is right on point. We do have a choice.  Always.  I have a very, very dear friend who battled breast cancer many years ago.  Talked to her a few weeks ago and she told me it's back.  She had just finished treatment and was going off on a cruise with her husband to celebrate the conclusion of her treatment.  This is someone who has seen her share of tragedy, yet her view of life is nothing if not optimistic, courageous and joyful.  She told me she has two choices and she has chosen to take joy.  She holds on to the beauty there is in the world.  She is one of my heroes.

Butterfly and Roses

I realized the deep blue funk lost its grip on me.  Life is so dear and so fragile.  We must refuse to let evil blot out the beauty in the world.  We must stand firm and refuse it access to our souls, our homes, our lives.  So, yeah, evil was loose in Boston this Monday.  It is ever-present in the world.  But we have a choice.  We either turn tail and cower in a corner or we go forth, live our lives in faith, take joy and refuse to be intimidated.  We will mourn our lost, help the survivors in any and all ways we possibly can.  I repeat.  We WILL come through this.  We WILL persevere. We are AMERICANS.  I've used this image of the butterfly before, they say butterflies are a symbol of rebirth, this one is for the victims, the survivors, the lost.  Godspeed.

Until next time, keep the faith, be blessed, be safe, be loved.

 

On Lent, Bullies and Random Acts of Kindness

Friemily Board - Love Wins!

Ah, Lent, a very special season, which always brings back memories of my Abuela and her traditional Lenten Friday dinners consisting of (cold) boiled potatoes and sardines with onions.  Do not know where that tradition came from, it was just always there.  Even when we were still in Cuba. The theory was the money that would have been spent on dinner went to the church.  In addition to whatever we put in the collection plate on Sunday. The reason we had sardines was because of the loaves and fishes.  Well, I asked, then why didn't we have sardines and bread?  Why did we have potatoes? Why did everything have to be cold? (Now, of course, I am thankful we were not served warm sardines, phew!)  Why did we do this only (thank God) at Lent?  Didn't the church need money year round?   I was told I asked too many questions.  I heard that A LOT when I was growing up. Still, come Lent, I always tried to have Friday dinner at a (non-Catholic) friend's house.  This did not always work out and a lot of times I wound up having, yep, sardines and potatoes.  Yum.  Now, of course, I would give anything to be at the family table once more, everyone gathered, passing around the plates with the sardines and the potatoes.  But when one is a child, one takes such blessings for granted.  My Mom teasing my Grandmother about how hard it must have been to catch such fine sardines.  My Grandfather grousing about why was there no rice at the table?  He was of the opinion if there was no rice at the table, dinner was not served.  My Dad asking me about my math homework and me, lying, saying I'd finished it.  Which, of course, I had not.  Did not like math.  Still don't.  Come Saturday afternoon it was off to confession where I would, yet again, confess to lying about my math homework.  And to being jealous of my friend Beth because she had a brand new baby brother to play with.  Big sinner.

Roses for my Abuela

It always amuses me when people give up chocolate for Lent.  Like it's some huge sacrifice.  Granted it can be, especially when you are (as I am) a major chocolate lover.  Love, love, love chocolate.  But, come on, like my good friend wrote last year, I don't think He wants our chocolate.  Giving up something we love is a sacrifice, of sorts.  Being kind, or civil, to those we know do not merit is, I believe, a greater sacrifice.  Especially when you know they are lying right to your face, to keep a civil tongue is an admirable trait.  Even if you have to bite your tongue to keep from lashing out. Civility, I have come to believe, is a really, really, really (get the picture?) big sacrifice.  I always remember my Grandmother, bless her heart, who would tell me "Be kind, child, mind your manners."  That was her mantra.  My grandmother really, really tried to instill that in me.  She was first and foremost a lady, with a capital "L."  She loved her family, roses and pearls. Manners.  Goodness, she was a stickler for manners.  I inherited her love of family, roses and pearls.  Her love of manners ... not so much.  Minding my manners has not always been possible for me.  I have let loose way too many times in my life.  Sometimes it has been merited.  Sometimes not.  Every time it has left a bad taste in my mouth.  Because I have lost control.  Because I have gained nothing by it.  Because I let them get to me.  My father used to tell me, if someone yells at you, you respond in a lower voice.  If you yell back, you engage them and they win.  Avoid yelling back.  Speak in a low voice.  Or walk away.  I  have walked away a lot.  Sometimes thinking, wishing, they would, eventually, look for me.  That has not always been the case.  In time, I learned those who did not were people that, like the poem says, are in your life for a season or a reason.  Then, once you have learned whatever it is you were supposed to learn from each other (and sometimes you have no clue what the lesson is, until eons later), you are no longer in each other's lives.  And no matter how much you miss them, they have no place in it.

Getting back to Lent, it is supposedly a season of praying, meditating, giving alms, helping the needy.  But that is something we should do all the time, not just a season.  I mean, hello?  If we are truly following in His steps (as so many claim to do), we should be in the trenches, getting dirty, if you will.  No, I don't mean, give up your jobs and comforts and go live under a bridge.  I mean living it every day.  Not turning away when a homeless person approaches you.  I read of a well-known attorney who makes it a point to have singles (as in dollar bills, not people) to give to whoever.  Why singles you may ask.  Well, once he gave a homeless person a five-dollar bill, the person promptly approached a hot dog vendor who gave the guy a hard time because he had a five dollar bill.  Mocking him, saying he must have worked really hard to get so much money.  Apparently, they don't question their having singles, but a five dollar bill, well, hey, that's a reason to give a poor shmoe a hard time.  I don't get bullies.  I think they are teeny tiny-brained people who have no place in the world.  And, yes, I know, bullies a great deal of the time are people who have been, or are, bullied.  But, you know, there comes a time when you realize that hey, being bullied sucks, so why would you inflict it on someone else?  I have never known a happy bully, have you?

I once dated a guy who had a miserable childhood.  He did not lack for creature comforts, his family was well-off.  But his father yelled at him constantly, pushing him to be better, mocking and belittling him at every turn.  His father was, to put it delicately, an equine derriere.  He had a beautiful son and made him feel worthless.  He grew up brilliant, quite charming.  His charm could turn on a dime.  You never knew when it was coming.  He would lash out, verbally, viciously.  Then apologize profusely, blaming it on his childhood. Never got physical, which is why we actually lasted a long time.  Too long. At first I would forgive, I felt so bad for him.  Having a relative that excels at verbal abuse, I know how hurtful it can be.  Luckily I had my parents who ran interference.  But his mother just laughed it off.  Which added insult to injury.  Eventually though, I realized he was always going to do that and I got tired.  Tired of the yelling, of the bad words.  Tired of family dinners with his parents where his father mocked him and his mother just smiled and drank.  Tired of the apologizing and false contriteness. The last yelling episode, I can't call it an argument, because I never yelled back, I would just let him yell and scream himself out, but that last time he started throwing things and I realized, it was time to get out.  He was never going to change. That was one of the first times I walked away from someone I loved.  I got tired of living with my shoulders wrapped around my neck, wondering what would set him off.  I just got really, really tired.

I have known people who suffered much, much worse abuse, physical abuse, hunger, and have become kind, gentle, giving human beings.  They chose to stop the cycle with them.  It's a choice.  Some realize they have a choice and make the right one.  Some see that choice and turn it down.  Because they are so angry at having been abused and hurt, they want someone else to feel the same pain they did.  In the end that solves nothing.  Certainly does not give them their childhood or innocence back. But there you go.  Still, they are broken, they need to be loved.  From far away, sometimes. But, still loved.  The fact you have been hurt, sometimes by the very people that should have protected and cherished you, does not give you a free pass to hurt others.  Once you grow up, you choose. You can be an equine derriere (I am trying to keep it clean here) or you can be a good person.  Good people do not mock, hurt, inflict pain on purpose.  Side bar:  Why is an equine derriere a derogatory term?  Horses are wonderful, intelligent, loyal animals.  I'd love to know how that term came into being.  I am not going to use that term anymore.  It is an insult to horses.  Some people are insults to mankind.

There are people who have the reputation for being horrible to deal with.  I have experienced that, actually, they turn out to be the nicest if you treat them fairly and with no b.s.  See? Keeping it clean, ha! They have really finely-tuned b.s. detectors.  You just have to have a little patience.  Maybe they have been mistreated in the past, so they put up a defensive front.  It's a defense mechanism.  You kick before getting kicked.  These are people that are tagged as "difficult."  I know a few like that.  Some have become friends. Others I have never gotten through their shields.  Ah, well.  Still, I have always been kind to them.  These people are not bullies, mind you.  They are just loners.  I can understand that. I treat people like I would like to be treated.  Unless I feel threatened, or witness their threatening or abusing someone, be they two-legged or four or winged.  That is unacceptable and I go into Rambo mode. It's not pretty.

Kindness can sometimes be mistaken for being foolish.  Big mistake.  It irks me when, for example, someone gives a homeless person some money, or a blanket on a cold night, or a meal, and someone else makes a snarky remark saying they are being a fool being kind.  I always think, there but for the grace of God go I, or someone I know, love, care about.  Once at a red light, I gave some money to a gentleman who was walking between the rows of cars.  The person with me said "You're being stupid, he'll just buy some cheap booze with it."  I thought, well, so, what?  Standing on a corner, on a rainy day, soaked to the skin, holding up a sign, being ignored or yelled at, has got to suck.  If the few dollars I give him can give him some bit of comfort, whatever that may be, who am I to criticize?  There are so many people hurting these days.  They have always been there.  I think it is just part of the world, of humanity.  There will always be suffering, there will always be bullies, there will always be those that have more than they will ever need and turn a blind eye to their brothers' suffering.  But there will always be those who do good, those who will lay their life down for people they don't even know, those who truly walk in His shoes (okay, sandals).  They are the quiet masses.  They go about their daily lives, routine, quietly, not seeking the spotlight.  Not yelling "Here I am!  Here I am!  Look at me!  I'm helping this beggar!"



Love Wins!

I love the saying "Practice random acts of kindess and commit acts of senseless beauty."  I happen to think kindness is an act of love.  Sometimes towards complete strangers.  The other night I witnessed a random act of kindness, actually I've seen it a couple of times.  I have written about this gentleman before.  He lives under an overpass I go through every day to go home.  He has a very military bearing and sweeps "his" sidewalk.  In his (very clean and shiny) cart you can see a spritzer bottle with what appears to be Windex (it's blue), rags, his broom (when he's not using it) and several parcels neatly tied with bungee cords.  He is always either sweeping or having a conversation with someone visible only to him or else saluting as the cars whiz by. A car pulled over and handed him a takeout bag.  He always makes the sign of the cross and bows his head, then the car continues and usually someone honks their horn because, you know, God forbid you slow down two seconds and hand someone some food. I always thank the Father for people like whoever is in that car.  In this season of Lent, I pray that group grows by leaps and bounds, the world needs a lot more of them.  One night the light was red and I stopped right in front of him, I always look at him and wave hello, this time he waved back and mouthed the words "God bless you" making the sign of the cross, I did the same. Then the light turned green and I was nearly deafened from the honking behind me, but I had a warm and fuzzy feeling all the way home.

There is a lot of hunger out there.  For food, for truth, for love.  I always thank the Father every night for getting me to, through and back from work, safe and sound.  For protecting my nest, my neighbors, me and mine.  Every morning I give thanks to Him for the new day, for protecting me through the night.  I thank the Father for little things, hot coffee in the morning, indoor plumbing, my cat who pokes her nose in my face and makes sure I am up on time (whether I want to or not) because she WANTS HER BREAKFAST, that is one punctual feline tummy, I give thanks for my friemily, having a job, the routine of every day.  Things we sometimes take for granted and others would sell their souls for.  You think you're having a miserable day?  Take a walk through the ICU of a hospital.  Or Appalachia where people live in what we would call impossible conditions, yet they survive and sometimes even thrive.  Spend some time with our troops fighting a war that seems to have no end, in a part of the world where we are spat upon, at times by those whose lives we are there to protect.  Whoever says war is noble is out of their mind, war is hell.  Noble are those who fight, knowing their lives will never be the same, yet still they go into battle.  Willing to put their lives on the line.  Witnessing unimaginable horrors.  And we wonder why some of them come back so damaged they turn on their own.  They willingly put their lives on the line for complete strangers.  Isn't that the ultimate random act of kindness?

Light Gives Warmth, So Does A Cup of Tea

Sometimes we forget how truly blessed we are, no matter how sucky our days are, how many tweezils we are forced to deal with, we come home, eventually, we close our doors, breathe peace.  When going through a really bumpy patch a while back someone emailed me "All is well.  You are loved."  It became my mantra during that time.  Someone else emailed me "Love wins." I did a little painting of a heart with those words in it.  It is true, you know, in the end love does win.  Evil does not obviate good, the Light will always prevail.  One of the many reasons I love the Whimbles is their slogan, "Lead with your heart and lighten the world."



Pretty, Pretty Shoes!

We are loved and that love gives us the Light which is so very much needed today.  Sometimes it all gets to me, I start losing sight of the good, of the beauty and that is when I head over to one of my favorite blogs, they bring a bit of beauty, wit and laughter when I am at my lowest.  They are what I call my "Blog Trifecta Plus One" because there are actually four, Frances Schultz', Hollye Jacobs', Rx for the Soul's and the Whimbles' blogs.  They unfailingly put me in a good mood, make me laugh, think, smile, remember. A recent post in Frances' blog took me back to my childhood and playing in my Mom's closet.  To me it was a fairy tale playground, full of beautiful clothes, high heels in every color, gorgeous purses (my purse and shoes obsession is in my genes) and what she called "feminine dainties" which were pretty lacy things.  Oh, how I loved playing in her closet.  Putting on her high heels and tromping about the house in them, sometimes with a very lacy garter belt that featured the most perfect tiny pink satin bows, perched on my head, like a bizarre hat.  I wanted to go out on the terrace and parade about in my finery, my Abuela almost had a knipshe fit.  I was four.  Some months later one of my cousins and I were playing brides, we decided our underskirts made out of yards and yards of tulle would make splendid veils and promptly perched them on our heads.  Yeah, Abuela nixed our bridal parade.  Darn it.  We were so hoping the two brothers who lived across the street would notice our elegant get-ups.  I wonder if Frances and Hollye, Connie and Martha know how truly wonderful their blogs are.  Their postings are, to me, acts of kindness.  I don't know all of them personally, but they truly are some of the finest Silver Linings in my life.

Okay, enough rambling and ambling, time to make dinner!  Soup, wonderful, soul-warming, tummy-smiling soup! Tonight I got creative and made an Alfredo sauce base lightened with a bit of chicken broth, then tossed in corn, mushrooms, carrots and (in honor of Lent) potatoes, but no sardines.  Ever. Until next time, be blessed, keep the faith and be kind to one another.



Soup!

Overwhelmed





Home

The past few weeks have been a bit ... topsy-turvy.  After a wonderful, truly happy, best one in years holiday season, I started slipping into a deep funk.  It started with upheaval where I work.  Things have become very tense around my office.  There are rumors, whispers, meetings behind closed doors.  There has been a lot of work, which is a good thing (at least to my way of thinking, because it keeps me busy and forces me to focus on getting it done).  The amount of work has led to (1) a lot of whining about it from those who do as little as possible and (2) even more work and stress for the few of us who actually earn our paycheck.  I try and focus on the fact that eventually the work day comes to an end and it's time to come home.  Friday does, eventually, roll around, blessed be the weekends.  Sometimes I get home Friday night and firmly close the door on the world, others I make plans with friends and we meet for a crack of dawn breakfast and fleaing.  Or I'm at the garden center early in the morning and then spend the whole weekend puttering in my teensy tiny garden, which has gone from disheveled to beautiful to decimated by some creature who has chomped on all the plants, leading me to clear out the planters and planning a garden center run which has yet to take place. The one survivor is my hanging basket of three types of mints, smells sooooo good! Or I have what Hollye Jacobs (bless her) calls a Pajama Day, only in my case it's more of a Pajama Weekend.

Whatever the day, whether during the work week or weekend, my mornings have the same routine, cafe con leche and morning prayer.  No matter how late I wake up, how rushed my morning may be, my morning prayer time and cafe con leche are a must.  Even if it means not putting on my face, I can always do that when I get to work.  True, I may scare anyone I run into, my morning face is not my best look, I can slap on the Spackle, trowel on the makeup once I get to the office.  I battle the Snargles on a daily basis.  They hover at the edge of my consciousness 24/7, I beat them back with a stick.  They will be overcome.  I come from some pretty solid stock.  I try to stay focused on the positive, my favorite blogs (God bless Connie, Frances, Hollye and Martha) help me stay positive.  At times prayer and their blogs are my lifelines.  Because when it seems like the world has truly lost it, they remind me there are pockets of sanity, joy, humor and beauty left.  It's not all destruction and mayhem, although at times it does seem like it.  Without fail, whenever it seems to be the darkest a new post pops up or a new little story appears, as if by magic, and I see the Light once more.  I am reminded to lead with my heart.  Ah, my Whimbles, I do love them so.

People always tell me "Oh, you're so nice" making it sound like I'm some sort of idiot.  But niceness does not equal weakness, as some have implied.  I merely treat others (or try my darnedest) as I would like to be treated.  Do unto others, what a lovely, lovely idea.  Wouldn't the world be a nicer place if people truly practiced this?  To me it sums up the 10 Commandments (you know, those 10 rules people jabber on about, but seldom actually put into practice) in one swoop.  Do unto others.

Lately I have been sliding into a deep blue funk.  I like to think of it as visiting the dark side of the moon.  The atmosphere at work is not a happy one.  Negativity is the rule.  Started buying into it.  No matter how much I do, how hard I try, the mountain of paper on my desk seems to grow, instead of dwindle.  I found myself feeling overwhelmed on a daily basis.  There is always a fire to put out and stress is the order of the day.  It was getting to be an effort just to get up and drive to the office.  Reading the news certainly did not help.  Is it just me or do others think that the world has gone lulu in the past few weeks?  Every morning brings a new horrific incident.  Women raped while others stand by and do nothing.  People going on shooting rampages.  Animals being mistreated.  People protesting at military funerals while claiming to be Christians.  These things bother me.  The negativity seems overwhelming.  You start buying into it and pretty soon find yourself becoming a full-fledged, bona fide member of the Dementor Brigade.  Not a good thing.

Last week at work there was a minor crisis (isn't that an oxymoron?) and after it was over I just sat at my desk, head in my hands, muttering "I can't do this much longer" over and over.  I felt absolutely, completely, totally (get the picture?) overwhelmed.  Someone walked by and remarked "Stressed?"  I just sighed.  Then they asked me "What is stressed spelled backwards?"  I actually had to type the word and then laughed for about five minutes.  Dessert!  It made me see I have been seeing the empty ice cream dish, instead of the cherry on top of the sundae. I sat down and wrote a little list entitled Silver Linings. I need to keep things in perspective.  Does my job blow?  Absolutely.  At times, I could cheerfully walk out.  Then things even out, straighten out and I realize, it's not THAT bad.  could be worse and not being employed would blow even more. I am employed at a time when millions are out of work.  Silver Lining. I am keeping a roof over my head, kibble in my cat's food bowl and paying my bills, Silver Lining, Silver Lining, Silver Lining. My boss happens to be a decent human being. Silver Lining. I have learned so very, very much in my current job. Silver Lining.  Did I mention my boss is a decent human being?  How many can say that ... and mean it?  Silver Lining. Do people act like a horse's rear end?  Without a doubt.  Always have, always will, it's part of the human DNA.  Read the newspaper everyday, you'll see it's true. But, still, even when you are stuck in a sucky situation, you hear about someone being diagnosed with (as Hollye, bless her, calls it) FBC, or a child being sick, or someone losing their life in an accident, and you know?  It's like, really, put things in perspective, I have zip to whine, complain, kvetch about.  There is a lot of muck in the world these days. Yet, there is also good, a lot of it.  But it tends to get shoved to the back of the line.  Usually.  Lately though it seems that the news media has been putting a bit of good news right next to the usual murder and mayhem articles.  Like the story of the little boy that donated his allowance to an animal shelter.  People banding together and marching peacefully, but making their presence felt, saying "Enough."  People paying for someone else's dinner.  People committing random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty, love that!

I always remember watching CNN many years ago, there was a group of soldiers (don't remember where, just that it was overseas) patrolling a town where a great deal of violence was taking place, we (the USA) went in to save the day (so, what else is new) and a woman walked up to one of the soldiers and handed him a flower.  Amid chaos, flowers grew.  If that was not the epitome of a "senseless act of beauty" I don't know what is.

Of course, you also have the nimrod who wrote the "I give God 10%, why do you get 18%?" note on their restaurant check.  Then had the gall to sign "Pastor" underneath and THEN when the check got posted online, went and complained to the employer of the person who posted the comment and got them fired.  Wait, it gets better, this "pastor" went on t.v. claiming to have suffered embarrassment.  Never thought their (yes, I know, I use this word a LOT) snarky comment would be posted online. Well, good.  You SHOULD be embarrassed.  You should be embarrassed your snippy note started a domino effect resulting in someone (the person who posted the comment) getting fired.   And you're a pastor?  God help your flock!  Yeah, you're a REAL Christian ... NOT!  But I digress.  Can't help it, part of my DNA.  I start out on one subject and weave and bob onto all sorts of other subjects.  Nimrods who do stupid things and claim they do so in the name of Christianity really bug me.  Puhleeze.

Back to my original rant.  I was feeling more and more overwhelmed by the negativity at work, the contentious working atmosphere, the general muck of it all.  The world is in turmoil, this is a fact.  We seem to be going through some type of upheaval.  I was focusing more on the chaos, the storm, seeing the clouds, not the sun hiding behind them.  I realize that last bit sounds a bit woo-woo, but you know what I mean. Then this past Friday driving home there was a whopper of a traffic jam.  We inched along, bit by bit.  Some nimrod slammed on the horn as if blowing your eardrums out would clear the traffic.  Have never grasped that concept.  "Hmmmm, let's see, traffic is backed up, let me honk the horn, yep, just keep on honking, THAT will solve the problem!  I am an Einstein!"  There are a lot of Einsteins in the fair city which I call home.  Finally saw flashing lights ahead and the reason for the backup.  An SUV in the middle of the highway and underneath, crushed and mangled, laying on its side, a motorcycle.  Blink of an eye.  My heart and prayers went out for whoever was involved in that crash.  The SUV was in good shape, but the motorcycle was pretty well much toast.  It looked like whoever was on it, swerved trying to not hit the SUV, lost control and slammed into the back of it, sliding underneath.  Maybe they were speeding, lost control.  Blink of an eye.  One minute your life is going along nicely, the next your world is shattered, sometimes beyond repair.  Blink of an eye.  Healthy one minute, diagnosed the next.  Blink of an eye.

My GodMother and Mom, long ago and far away

Traffic cleared, I got home, unlocked the door to my pretty, comfortable, sweet-smelling (Eucalyptus Mint from Bath and Body Works) nest.  My cat greeted me with her medley of howls and purrs.  Standing on my porch after feeding the outside felines and watering my minuscule garden, I looked at the night sky and saw the stars.  I always think of my godmother when I see stars.  Her memory always brings a smile to my face.

Earlier this week a friend asked me to email her something I was grateful for, I responded my faith, my parents, my life.  The first equals the second, the second equals the third, the third goes right back to the first.  That is my trifecta.  Yesterday morning I woke up, said morning prayers, thanked the Father for getting me through a very challenging week.  Had my morning coffee and watched a movie.  Started drafting some little stories.  Late in the afternoon there was a wonderful phone visit with one of my Fairy GodMothers.  Texted with another one making plans for a crack of dawn breakfast next weekend.  It's a 3-day weekend, let the crowds rejoice!  Then came the Very Best News of the Day.  My world expanded by one yesterday.  We have a new baby boy in the friemily!  A child I love as my own, who I have known for what seems like forever and who (along with her younger sister) will always be my baby girl, who grew up to be this amazing individual, married and with a baby who is the Most Beautiful Baby Boy Ever, had her second baby yesterday.  A bouncing, healthy, beautiful baby boy.  The Most Beautiful Baby Boy Ever is a Big Brother now.  Blessed, blessed be.  Mother and baby doing fine.  Pictures were texted.  Messages exchanged.  And I realized that yeah, the job may bite, some of the people I work with are not ones I would have chosen.  But I have much to be grateful for.  I thought back to what I had emailed my friend that I was grateful for, my faith, parents, life.  And I was overwhelmed, not by negativity but by gratitude.  We are blessed, we are blessed, we are blessed.

Until next time, keep the faith, be blessed and remember to look for the Light.  It may be hidden behind clouds, but it is there.  I promise you.

The Quest for Tamiflu

Last Tuesday I had a perfectly nice day at work, came home, warmed up my soup ... and noticed my throat hurt a bit.  Woke up Wednesday feeling like a semi had run over me, stopped, backed up and run over me a couple more times.  Called the doctor and he prescribed Tamiflu.  Which you have to start taking within 48 hours of the onset of symptoms.  What followed was a comedy of errors.  Being at home, I asked the doctor's assistant to please call the prescription in to the Walgreen's pharmacy near my house, as opposed to the one near my office where I have my regular prescriptions filled.  Now, you would think that being the same company, i.e., Walgreen's, this would not be a big deal, all records are computerized, right?  Well, apparently not.  Wednesday afternoon not having received a "your prescription is ready call" from Walgreen's, I called.  They could not find any record of Tamiflu being prescribed for me.  Called the doctor's office, they said they would fax it AGAIN.  Called Walgreen's.  This time they found no record of my ever buying prescriptions at Walgreen's (I refill on a monthly basis).  They also kept calling me "Mr."  I said no, no, no, it's Ms., not Mr.  Still could not find my records.  I repeated my birth date, my full name, my address ad nauseam to various people.  Still no records.  Finally got the situation with my records (miraculously found) straightened out, they still kept calling me "Mr."  Called back in an hour (like they said) to confirm I could go pick it up.  In this case, my neighbor had offered to go get it for me, because I felt really, really, really lousy.  This was still Wednesday afternoon.  So, I call Walgreen's and this is what I get "I'm sorry, sir, we are out of Tamiflu but should be getting some in tomorrow."  Great.  Not only did they give me an unwanted sex change, now they were out of the medicine I needed!  Keep in mind, there's a 48-hour window.

Thursday morning dawned, still felt lousy.  My neighbor calls to say one of their little ones is down with some kind of bug.  No worries, I told her, I'll go get the Tamiflu and is there anything I can pick up for them?  No, they are fine and well-stocked with orange juice, chicken soup, crackers.  Call Walgreen's ... again, back to Mr. and no records found.  That is when I lost all semblance of a cool, calm demeanor and ranted at the pharmacy tech to GET SOMEONE WHO KNOWS WHAT IN HELL THEY ARE DOING ... NOW!  Talked to the head pharmacist (or so they claimed) who assured me they would be receiving the Tamiflu shortly and yes, they would have it ready for me.  Fine.  I took a shower, pulled on some clothes and off I went to my regular Walgreen's to pick up my monthly meds.  Did I mention I still felt lousy? Not the best of times to be dealing with the traffic from hell which is Miami traffic.  Get my regular meds, call the Walgreen's near my house to tell them I am on my way and please is my prescription ready.  Answer, "Sir, our records show you recently picked up your medication at another Walgreen's location."  Really!  You could not find my records yesterday, but today you can tell I picked up my meds from my regular Walgreen's?  And "still have not received Tamiflu."  Did I mention the person at the other end of the line would repeatedly sigh and then say "Ay, Dios mio, la gente!"  (Translation:  Oh, my God!  People!)  Really?  With my last name being as common as Smith or Jones is in English, you are going to kvetch in Spanish?  Exactly what is your IQ?  -40?  Oh, wait, forgot to add there was raucous laughter and salsa music blaring in the background.  Well, I'm so sorry I am interrupting your salsa session!  By this time the 48 hour window is getting narrower and narrower.  Again, I ask for the head pharmacist.  He tells me "Oh, Mr. Robles (okay, they have now changed my sex AND my last name), how are you today?  We have your Tamiflu here, are you going to pick it up today?" I informed him my wife was on her way to pick it up for me.  I was not going down the "No, it's Ms., not Mr." road again.
 
In the general scheme of things not getting the Tamiflu in time would not have been that big a deal, I can always mainline Vitamin C, orange juice and chicken soup and hole up in bed until I'm back to normal, but my heart goes out to those people that are really, really sick and have to deal with rude, obnoxious pharmacy staff who don't give a rat's green patootie that the person on the other end of the line is feeling ill.  Blessedly when I drove up to the drive-through ready to bite somebody's head off, I was helped by a very kind, well-mannered young man who apologized for the mix-up and got my prescription lickety-split.  I am writing a letter to Walgreen's corporate headquarters suggesting they fire all the pharmaceutical staff at that particular store, starting with the "Ay, Dios mio!" numbskull, except for this young man.  Him, they should make head of the department and have him train new employees.  Honestly.  And, please, can the salsa music be turned down or, better yet, eliminated?  People are there to pick up medicines, not do the merengue.  Much as I like dancing, I do not want to hear music when I have a headache pounding inside my brain.  It is especially painful when it starts keeping a beat to the music.

There are various Silver Linings to all this. One of them being my boss rocks. She told me to stay home, concentrate on getting well and not worry about the office and did I want chicken soup delivered, did I have enough food, did I need anything? The thing is she truly meant this which really makes me feel great about working for someone like that.  Another is, serendipitously enough, Tuesday afternoon I received my copy of A House in the South by Frances Schultz, one of my favorite people ever and in between naps (this bug/flu thing has made really sleepy) I have been looking at all the fabulous photographs of lovely homes.  When not leafing through that marvelous tome, I re-read the Whimbles' beautiful offering, The Legend of the Land of Caelumen.  Honestly, those books and their illustrations get better every time.  I can get lost in Caelumen and wish I could move there.  I also have a stock of the Best Chicken Soup Ever in my fridge, it warms my tummy and soul to slurp it (Mom and Grandma's recipe).  I am grateful again and again for my beautiful bed, it is lovely to snuggle in it, surrounded by lots of fluffy pillows (I love my pillows, I love my bed, cozy, cozy, cozy) and my baby girl Bella Bella Smokey Noella happily snoozing next to me.

Yesterday I woke up feeling slightly less fuzzy-headed, I did not wake up with the chills during the night and my throat did not hurt anymore.  My sneezes are still mega-loud, but that is in my DNA and to be expected.  I managed to make some lovely cafe con leche and stay awake for longer periods of time, watched two movies, Mirror, Mirror (loved, loved, loved, the dwarves are hilarious, I love Nathan Lane and the costumes are, oh, wow, those dresses, ooooh!) and The Joneses (Demi looks beautiful, Duchovny's still got it, loved their house, the movie not so much) and managed to start typing  this entry without falling asleep, big, big, big improvement.  I continued re-reading The Legend of the Land of Caelumen, wishing yet again I could move there.

Today, I woke up feeling almost back to normal.  I have not taken a single nap and managed to finish writing some little stories I've been working on for a while.  And now, if you will excuse me, there's one last bowl of chicken soup to slurp and some sketches to fiddle with.

Until next time, be blessed, wash your hands, take extra Vitamin C, drink plenty of orange juice, sleep a full eight hours and if you have not already done so, get your flu shot!