Monday, February 15, 2010

Pain, puking, and flashy blue lights ...


Lots of people have migraines. They all have my deepest sympathy/empathy. Migraines are awful. They are debilitating. They are mean and nasty. I know, first hand, up close and personal. I've spent the last few days dealing with one.

Years ago, I used to get them frequently, often as twice a week. Many times I've had to get friends to cart me to the emergency room for a nice big shot of Demerol, then haul me back home so I could crawl into bed and let the drug send me off into pain-free oblivion. I was very close to calling a friend last night. Only the lateness of the hour and the fact that I didn't think I'd be able to ride in a car that far without puking my guts out kept me from making a call.

Over the years my migraines have slowed to occurring maybe once or twice a year. I can't tell y'all how many ways from Christmas the level of pleased I am about that. Sometimes, if I'm lucky, I can catch one early enough with a dose of Advil and ratchet it down to an the equivalent of an ordinary annoying headache. But every once in awhile, WHAM! No amount of Advil will help and I'm reduced to curling up in a fetal position somewhere and wishing I could cut my head off and bury it out back in a deep, dark hole in the ground. This most recent migraine was the worst I've had in a long, long time.

I spent nearly the entire day yesterday on the sofa, cold rag on the back of my neck and my head in my hands. Didn't move much except to worship at the porcelain shrine of Vomictus, the God of Nausea, a time or two. I was, in a word, pathetic.

I'd been fighting the migraine on and off since Wednesday. I had a bad day that day. Thursday I had to force myself to be productive and go into town to run some errands. Friday was rough. On Saturday I had to make a trip into town to buy bread for my neighbor and to help a friend decorate the restaurant where she was having her mother's 70th birthday party. Then I had to stay for the party. My fabulous computer tech guy also brought my computer back to me (it coped attitude and had to be resuscitated) that evening. When I sat up in bed yesterday morning I felt like my head had been kicked by an elephant.

I took Advil. No help. I puked my guts up. No fun. I tried Reiki. Couldn't relax and focus. I complained to the cats. They ignored me. I debated dunking my head in a bucket full of cold water. I was already switching between extreme, sweating hot and shivering cold body temperatures. I didn't think the bucket idea would help much, just get my hair wet and I didn't have the umph to dry it. So, I sat there, head in hands.

Sometime around 7:00pm I was pretty much at my low point. I focused my eyes long enough to send the husband a text message asking him not to do his nightly call. Even thinking about hearing the sound of the phone ringing made me want to throw up. I was sitting there, debating which friend to call and take me to the emergency room, trying to decide if I thought I could ride in a car without dying, feeling absolutely horrible at the thought of anybody having to come help me ... and then, as embarrassing at it is to say this, I'll tell ya' folks, I started crying.

As I sat there, ready to break down and call my neighbor, thinking I just couldn't take it anymore, the oddest feeling came over me. I saw the most beautiful flash of electric blue and the top of my head went warm, like someone put their hands on it. My shoulders relaxed so much they felt like they dropped a foot. I heard my guide, Myrium, ask me why I waited so long to ask her for help. I could see her, in my minds' eye, run her hand down the back of my neck ... and the pain was gone. Just like that. Gone.

I was still feeling a little weak, slightly dizzy, stomach a bit queasy, but otherwise completely pain free. I thought, "Holy cow!". It was incredible. It was wonderful. Where, not a minute before, I was sitting there hunched over and so sick I was crying, I was now actually sitting straight up and smiling like an idiot. I jumped up and sent the husband a text to tell him to call. I didn't feel like dancing a tango, but I felt pretty damn good all things considered.

Now, I know lots of people who would think that story was just nuts. But I also know a lot of other people who would just nod their heads in understanding. They know what I'm talking about. They know their own spirit guides as I know mine. And they would ask the same question Myrium asked me, "Why did you wait so long to ask?". Truth is, I was so caught up in feeling bad, so self-absorbed in my misery, I just didn't think of it. I feel a little guilty about it now, but I also know that my guides don't hold it against me. They already know I'm a pain-in-the-ass 90% of the time. In working with me, their patience knows no bounds. A fact I am infinitely grateful for.

But it brought home to me how far I've been away from them over the past year. 2009 was tough. Three hundred and sixty five days of some pretty rough going. I have, without realizing it until now, been retreating into a little bubble of self-protection and isolation. I used to be very hermitish. I closed off nearly everyone and everything and just moved through my life in that same bubble. I functioned, but I was 'shut-down'. Like living on auto-pilot. I've spent the last 10 years working hard to come out of that old behavior pattern and open up to life. I made huge progress. Amazing progress. I have a life full of blessings.

Somewhere during the past year I "slipped" and fell. I can't say it was one thing in particular, more a combination of things. My response was to retreat. I think this migraine was a 'wake-up call'. When I think back to the times my migraines were frequent and nasty, it was always during difficult times. My body's way of dealing with an overload of suppressed emotion and stress. It's hard to face life sometimes when you are an overly sensitive person. Being around people can feel suffocating. Stressful situations and upsetting events can be just too much. It's like always being on the edge of a panic attack. Sometimes the only way to cope is to shut down.

Sitting there on the sofa last night, sick to the point of crying yet fearing to call for help, it hit me ... not asking for help when I need it is one of my biggest problems. It's like putting handcuffs on myself and then expecting to be able to wield a paintbrush and create a masterpiece on a life-sized canvas. Not going to happen. Instead, what I need to do is take action. First thing to do is make a doctor's appointment and, as much as I hate the thoughts of taking any kind of medication, get something for the migraines. Then I need to start getting back into life, hopefully find a job to get me out of the house and bring in some extra income. Maybe join a knitting club or something like that. And most importantly, start paying attention to my guides again ... maybe if I do that then hopefully I won't need to take any migraine medication because they will just go away. Sounds really good to me.

Thanks, Myrium.

Namaste, y'all ...

Thursday, February 11, 2010

My coffee cup bites the dust.

Do you ever get attached to things? I do, I'll admit it. I have my favorite shoes, my favorite paint brush, favorite pen to write with. You get the picture. I also have a favorite coffee cup. I've had it for years. At least 15 years, if not longer. I killed it today.

Back story: I was born and raised in Atlanta, GA. Well, half raised. When I was eleven, after my parents divorced, my mother, brother and I moved to the foothills of NC where my mother was born. In 1975 is was a cheap place to live for a single mother with two kids. Most of her family still lived there. Spent several summers visiting, stayed with my grandparents, played with cousins, typical summer vacation kind of thing. It was okay, but I liked being in Atlanta better. City kid.

It was upsetting to move away from my friends, places I knew and was familiar with. The actual moving day wasn't too bad because my uncle (Mother's brother) and his family had come down from NC to help. He and my aunt had two kids the same ages as my brother and I so we entertained each other and stayed fairly distracted about the whole move thing. It was late at night when we finally got to the house my mother had rented. Too dark to see anything. We just piled in the house with what we needed and went straight to bed.

I will never forget waking up that first morning, looking out my new bedroom window, and seeing acres of cornfield and chickens in the front yard. I stood there and cried. I was immediately homesick for Atlanta. I stayed homesick for years. Went back a couple of times years later for college and a job, but it just didn't work out that I could stay. Ah well, that's another story.

Back to the coffee cup ...

In my mid-twenties I started collecting Coca-Cola stuff. After all, Atlanta is the home of Coke. I was also a Coca-Cola addict, but again, I digress.

I collected all kinds of stuff ... antique Coke trays, cards, advertisement posters, dish towels, coasters, vintage bottles, magnets, etc. I even had one of those huge antique red metal 'button' Coke outdoor store signs that hung on my wall in my living room. But my favorite thing was an old, green glass soda shop Coke mug. The kind used for making Coke floats (Coke with a scoop of vanilla ice cream). I have no idea of the date or antique value of the thing, and that didn't really matter to me, I just liked it. I had found it at a yard sale for .25¢. It became my 'cup of choice' for nearly everything I drank. Sure, sometimes I'd use a different cup or glass, but it stayed my preferred cup for all these years.

I sold off nearly all of my collection a few years ago when I moved back to this area. Big ol' yard sale. Cleaned house, literally. One of the few things I kept from my Coke collection was my cup. Couldn't part with it. Loved my cup.

Today, I'm deeply saddened to say, I broke it. Washing dishes. Slipped right out of my hand and WHAM! Hit the side of the sink and broke into a half dozen pieces.

I stood there a full minute, stunned, before I launched into a tirade of non-printable swearin'. I wrapped all it's pieces in a towel and buried it in the trash can. Had a fresh pot of coffee and no favorite cup. I shall miss my cup.

I wanted to show you a picture of it (ya' know, 'cause blogs are so much better with photos) so I did the typical thing ... Googled it. Not really expecting to find anything and have to post this naked of pictures, I was surprised to discover one for sale on ebay. Who'da' thunk it? I clicked the link.


Holy schmoly! Would you believe the seller is asking $36.12? And that's reduced from $42.50! Granted, they have a bottle opener for sale with it, too. But $36.12? Are they outta' their minds? Now I really loved my cup, but thanks, I'll have to pass on that offer. I'll use another cup I already have.

Did I mention it's a Coca-Cola cup, too?

Namaste, y'all ...

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Library find!


I found Colin Beavan's blog, No Impact Man, several weeks ago and bookmarked it for future pursuing. There was a lot to read and I just haven't taken time to sit and go through it all. I did take the time to add his book to my Amazon.com wish list.

Went to the library on Monday for a round of 'shelf diving' and for some reason decided to have a look through the "new book" section. I hardly ever look there for anything - mostly 'cause I find an armload in the regular shelves and just can't carry anything else!

Anyway, I'm standing there, head hanging to the side in that goofy, library shelf-looking way and noticed an odd title in blue letters on the red spine of a book. Eh? Could it really be? I set my armload of books on the floor and pulled it from the shelf. Yep, indeed. No Impact Man. I laughed and said, "Well, yee ha!" out loud. Yeah, the library ladies gave me a look, but they know me.

So I slapped it on the stack with the rest and headed to the checkout counter. Plan to start reading it right after I finish the one I'm currently reading. While I almost always have several books I'm reading going at the same time I thought I would like to give this one my undivided attention.

While I was gathering images to put with this post I discovered it's been made into a movie as well ...


Guess this means a trip to the video store sometime in the near future - that is, unless they have it at the library!

Namaste, y'all ...

Friday, February 5, 2010

Momma Nature and Old Man Winter ... it's a tag-team effort.

Call me crazy. Call me a person swimming in wishful thinking and vain hope. Call in an order for a large White pizza from Roma's Italian Restaurant and have it delivered. Call Momma Nature and Old Man Winter and tell them the party is over and this is the final call from the bar. I'm ready for warm weather now, thank you very much.

I've been eye-ballin' the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administraton page for my location and watching as the nasty stuff crept closer and closer all week. We got dumped on Monday with a foot of snow. We got another couple of inches of sleety/snowy/freezy stuff last night. Been steadily drizzling more of the same all day. Calling for more of it tomorrow. Did I already tell you I'm really, really ready for warm weather?

This is what I woke up to this morning ...


I will be the first to admit it is beautiful ...



But despite the beauty, I look out my window and see how the weight of it makes the pines lean over like hump-back old men. I can't quite get the "this stuff makes trees fall down really close to my house" thoughts out of my head. Living in a house surrounded by trees it nice, but it does have it's down side at times.

So, the furry vermin and I found parking spots and enjoyed ourselves ...

I chose the sofa with a hot cup of Earl Gray and a book ...


Tuck got comfy on my side of the bed ...


Zipper got his blankie at the foot of the bed ...


And we had a good day.

Namaste, y'all ...

Thursday, February 4, 2010

I have been hereby summoned ... duly noted. I'll bring my knitting.


Back in November of last year I had to renew my driver's license (got a terrible photo, by the way). When the assisting officer asked if I wanted to register to vote I thought, "What the heck!" and told him okay, sure, why not?

Now, some people out there might blow a gasket at my stating the fact that I don't vote. Let me go on record right now and tell you I've heard all the arguments, all the opinions - both reasonable and dumb-ass - from people over the years about voting and non-voting. I stand firmly by my own opinion that if, on that ballot, there isn't a single person I feel worthy of giving my vote to then I'm not voting. It's like being given a choice between being snake-bit by a copperhead or a rattle snake ... I'm supposed to choose between the lessor of two evils? I prefer not being bitten at all, thank you very much.

But there's another side to being a registered voter I'd completely forgotten about. Jury duty. Needless to say, getting a summons for duty in the mail the other day was, well, a surprise. And ya' know what? I'm not complaining. I'm kinda' thinking it might be cool.

Years ago I lived in a small town in South Carolina. It was 1992 and the only year I have ever registered to vote. I got summoned that year, too. Only that time I was called for jury duty in Superior court and would have had to serve for the entire year. Somehow, they had too many people and ended up throwing everybody's name in a hat, pulled twelve names and two alternates. My name didn't get pulled and that was that. Never served, life moved along. Didn't give it anymore thought.

Thanks to that officer at the DMV I've been offered (okay, summoned) a second change. While I know for some serving on jury duty is a big hassle and everybody always gripes about it I'm oddly looking forward it. It's not out of any feeling of civic duty or other such stuff as that. It's about having a new experience. Who knows what might happen?

No, I'm not looking for drama of a murder trail or tangled intrigue of illegal mayhem. Surprisingly, for being relatively small, this county has had it's share of such doings. But I'm not sure I'd want someone's future in my hands ... to be part of a panel of people that could put someone in jail for the rest of their life, or worse. Doesn't sound like something anyone would find enjoyable unless you were nuts. It's simply the process of it all. Learning about the system (which, I know - I know, is flawed) and what all goes on when you serve on jury duty. What kind of cases do you hear? Etc, etc, etc.

So, on February 23rd I'll be at the courthouse in my Sunday-go-to-meetin' clothes and see what's what. I'll stuff a book and some knitting in a bag in case they make me wait around. Who knows, they, too, might just send me back home.

Namaste, y'all ...

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

I've got sunshine on a cloudy day ...

... when it's cold outside I've got the month of May ...

It starts with this very pretty Fancy Sparkle Organdy from Hancock Fabrics (color is Sunny Jasmine) ...


Which, naturally, must be inspected very closely ...


Because being creative is tiring you have to take a breather ...


But then you get busy and make some cute little pleats ...


Add some rings ...


Measure up a nice big hem ...


Which, naturally, must pass another inspection for accuracy ...


You get to hang this lovely bit of sunshine and sparkle on your window ...


And admire your handiwork ... or sniff it, depending on your preference ...


Namaste, y'all ...

Monday, February 1, 2010

Momma Nature smacked us again ...

Have you ever noticed the way the whole world seems to go quiet after a snowfall? It's both peaceful and spooky. Out here in the boonies, where it's usually quiet anyway, the snow quiet is even more pronounced. No birds chirping. No faint sounds of cars and trucks on the main road a couple of miles away. No dogs barking. Nothing.

I drove into town on Friday and did a few errands, bought some groceries, prowled the library for some reading material, then vamoosed myself back home as fast as I could. I wanted to beat the "snow shoppers", you know the ones, like locust, they descend on the grocery store at the slightest hint of snow and buy up every single gallon of milk and loaf of bread within a 50 mile radius. Freaky. I try my best to avoid them.

The sky was cloudy and you could smell the snow on the air. Didn't need the weatherman to tell me what was coming. Good ol' Mother Nature had decided we needed more snow, and snow she gave us. While not as much as the last time (about 15 inches at my house), she still dumped us with about a foot of that fluffy, sparkly kind on Friday night. Then she graced us on Saturday with a full day of a very fine sleet/snow mix. So fine it looked like a thick, heavy fog through the woods.

The sun came out briefly on Saturday morning before the sleet stuff and I went outside to clean off the front and back steps and to make sure the A/C unit wasn't buried under a ton of ice like last time. Going out the back door I nearly walked face-first into this ......


Icicles as long as my arm. Hanging from the gutter right over the back door. I could have been a shish-ka-bob! Fortunately I backed up in time, made a U-turn to get my camera, and snapped a couple of pictures. I'm not sure what it is about icicles that fascinates me so much, but they do. I think they are amazing and beautiful. These were lovely and sparkled in the sun. Bad photography or whatever prevented capturing the sparkle. Oh well ... they were pretty.

 

 


Namaste, y'all ...