Once the nose gets a hold of a good head cold, it hangs on for all it’s worth. I’ve tried it all; antihistamines, decongestants, nasal irrigation, mustard plasters, and gargles. I’m taking every vitamin known to man. The nose continues to sneeze, sniffle, run, plug, and blow. There is no quieting the nose, no soothing the nose and certainly, no stopping the nose. It won’t quit. Once the nose gets a really masterful cold going, it becomes the biggest thing on my face. It’s huge in it’s swollen plugged up state of germ infested bulberousness. It’s like a small pumpkin where my nose used to be. I’d cut off my nose despite my face if it would do me any good. I hate the thing. Not only that, but now it’s got a tissue rash that is severe. I mean it’s raw and it hurts like crazy every time I need to blow my nose which is about every thirty five seconds. Yes, I’m using the soft tissue with the moisturizer in it. I think I’m allergic to it though; I think it’s attributing to my sneezing. I’m about to call roto-rooter. I think I need the snake to go…
Category: Randomness
Under the Weather
As I’m feeling a bit “under the weather,” I decided to find out where that old saying came from. Old it is, apparently dating back to 1827. Since it was commonly believed that bad weather could make you sick, a person would be “under the weather” when taken ill. The other explanation I found, and like better, is when sailors were sick they would rest below deck and were therefore literally “under the weather.” Also, the deck on a ship was commonly referred to as the “weather bow,” so the saying may have originally been “under the weather bow.” Either way, it’s a good saying and I believe it to be true for several reasons. First, I’ve rarely ever have taken ill in good weather. I honestly cannot remember a day where the sun was out and the air was warm and I was sick. I totally agree that cold, wet, cloudy weather is the cause of both physical and mental illness. Usually, I become both during the long, dark, Pacific Northwest winters. Second is the fact that we hide from the weather when we aren’t well. Everything is exaggerated when we are sick. The warm is too…
Monkey Business
There was a monkey swinging outside my window in the cedar tree the other morning. It was the color of creamed coffee with a white belly and a white face. He had huge eyes the color of amber and they sparkled when he caught sight of the sun and his tail was so long it looked to be wound around the branch he was hanging from about ten times. Amazing, really, to have monkeys living here. I’ve always been told they prefer a much warmer climate. People don’t talk about them much, yet we are certainly inconvenienced by the little pests nearly everyday. As we all know, they have a propensity for theft. The biggest mistake I ever made in respect to our monkey friends was leaving my cell phone out on the porch when I went grocery shopping the other day. It was gone when I returned home and I knew who had taken it. It turned up on the side of the road yesterday, beat up and ruined, monkey prints all over it. The other thing they’ve been doing lately is pulling the flowers out of the pots, making a huge mess, dirt all over…
A Day In The Life
It goes like this: Whine, whine, whimper, whimper. It’s about six in the morning and the dogs want in. My husband gets up, opens the bedroom door and climbs back in bed with two dogs who want to be under the covers and cuddled up close. The little one can’t quite get herself off the ground anymore so she needs a lift. About an hour later, I get up and one of the dogs get up with me; Rita. She wants to go outside and she will not take her penetrating eyes off either one of us until she is let outside. About fifteen minutes later she is at the door barking to be let in. She won’t stop barking until we let her in. In the meantime, Maggie, the little one, is still under the covers in our bed. We can’t see her because she is small and nestled down at the bottom of the bed. Rita is back in the house now, feet cleaned off and dried and she heads for the kitchen. She comes to me with those penetrating eyes that say “how could you possibly let my water bowl go dry? Where is my breakfast?” I…
It’s really not about the Easter Bunny or a basket full of chocolates. It’s not about ham. Originally, Eastre (as it was called) was a pagan celebration of spring and new beginnings. Everything comes to life in the Spring. What’s not to love and celebrate about it? Yet, there isn’t a flower, a baby chick, new born bunnies or even an eaglet that is more worthy of celebrating than the new life of Jesus Christ. His resurrection gave us eternal life. Now, that’s something worth celebrating! Eastre was changed to Easter. It became a time to prepare new converts for baptism through intensive classes and instruction. It was a time for long-standing Christians to review their lives and renew their commitment to Jesus Christ. And, it was a time for backsliders to be restored to the faith. In every case, it is a time for serious, disciplined self-examination, a time spent in intensive prayer and repentance before the cross of Calvary. Have a Wonderful Easter! May we all celebrate our everlasting lives. Later, Mary Ann
Music to My Ears
I can’t imagine a world without music. Nothing compares to the soothing serenade of a well played violin or rag-time tunes as they dance off the keys of an old piano. Nothing gets under my skin and into my blood like the sweet crooning of a saxophone or the rich vocals of folks like Roy Orbison or Christina Agulara. Yet, I spent yesterday in my yard, pulling weeds by the bucket load, where I enjoyed equally beautiful music of a much different kind. I listened as the gentle waves lapped playfully onto the shore with a delicate rhythmic sound that was truly hypnotic. The bay was so quiet that the water sounds echoed off the shore and mixed with the occasional cry of an eagle. I heard splashes and looked to see both seals and sea birds diving for food. Mix the lapping with the splashing with the screeching, and it was natures orchestra at it’s best. Or so one would think.
Meet me at the Fountain
The fountain was located in the center of the small mountain village. It was encircled with shops and restaurants lining the outside parameter. Every thing faced the center of the town square where the fountain spouted in the warm afternoon sun. It was nearing evening and some of the cafe’s were busy serving red wine, huge kalamata olives and fresh aromatic breads. A cluster of old men crowded a bench that wrapped around the fountain, leaning around to talk to each other and smoke their cigarettes. They glanced our way occasionally, blowing smoke as their minds wandered – most likely down a trail of memories. Earlier times when they were young and spry, when their minds had yet to forget a friends name or the day of the week or how they once had little ones splashing in the fountain water as their grandchildren did now.
Under the Pacific Northwest Sun
You didn’t know we had one, did you? A “sun”, that is. You know that thing I’m talking about. We all learned about it in elementary school. It’s part of the solar system – our planet has one of it’s very own. You see it painted bright yellow by artists all around the world, or at least by those who have actually seen it. All those planets out there, with their own suns and moons. I remember the lesson quite well. It was in the time of my life when the sun made an appearance on a semi-regular basis. Of course, I didn’t live where I do now. I didn’t live here in the very green Pacific Northwest. I’ve not forgotten the days of my youth, warm sunny days. Dry air, dry lawn, dry hair, dry – ness. Yes, there was a time when things outside the house were dry. Not wet and soggy and muddy and moldy. Not damp and dark and cold. No; dry and warm and…dry.
I am the boss of me!
I read a quote by a famous person the other day (I can’t remember who it was) that said: “Do what needs to be done, when it needs to be done, weather you feel like it or not, and you will be successful in life.” I thought about that for quite a while and concluded that it is true. I know this because I started out the new year with a schedule. An actual Monday through Friday schedule. It incorporates rise and shine, coffee, prayer, exercise, shower, writing, house cleaning and quitting time, all together in a nice neat little package. I find that following the schedule has allowed me to accomplish much more on a daily basis than I ever have. A schedule keeps me accountable for my time and accountability is important in life. It keeps us on our toes. One of my friends said she could never do that. She thinks it’s far too restrictive and too demanding. She’s right. It is. Yet, I need to practice self discipline because basically, I am a lazy person who will look for an easy out every chance I get. I’m capable of finding more excuses than there are dandelions…
Butterflies
They are brilliant in color, graceful if flight, delicate and harmless. The flight of a butterfly catches the eye with the grace of a classical ballet as it flutters from flower to flower. I watched a Monarch one day as it came through the forest following a small stream of mountain water melting off from the snow cap above. It’s decent was hard to follow as it flitted from place to place, landing for only seconds here and there. What must it be like to be a butterfly? To be so incredibly weightless as to get through life on the shirttail of a breeze and so beautiful to be compared only to the rarest of exquisite creations.