Relief

I have flirted off and on with a cold for almost two weeks.  Fatigue, a sort of shaki- achiness, no fever to speak of and a little "hey, don't forget me! I'm here, too." from the sinuses. Until the sinuses tried to strangle me in my sleep on Saturday night. I got up Sunday morning exhausted and just a little vengeful.  Sunday night, I parried with a highly reliable natural remedy, but until that worked, I backed it up with:

TARGET BRAND OTC NIGHT TIME COLD REMEDY

You know what I mean...

Sounds all rebellious and heavy drinker-y, but since SOMEONE left the lid off the bottle last fall and it dumped in MY vanity drawer, we get the softgels.

So with fatigue, illness and self-pity driving me to bed early Sunday night, I opened the box and found the little plastic sheet of blister packaged...

~screech~

(what is that tires?  a record scratching?  you decide.)

"Son of a..."

I'm sick.  I just want to take this medicine which says, "SO YOU CAN REST..."  right on the ad for the namebrandwhichIneverbuybecauseitcostssomuchmore.

"Where are the scissors?"

struggles with the nail scissors

"Is that enough damage to the blister pack?"

tries tearing where that one (1) little cut seems to indicate a perforation of some kind.

"Gosh dang."  (or something like that, my memory is not really clear here).

Digs in vanity for BIG Scissors.

"I am sick, and I have no intention of, by gosh, going to bed without non-narcotic cough suppressant coursing through my veins!"

Slices halfway through blister pack and tears the rest with teeth.  Slashes cuticle on plastic portion of pack.

Dear OTC Drug Manufacuturers:

First of all, may the fleas of a 1000 camels...  Dude.  What was I saying?  Oh, yeah.

Are you trying to contribute to the incidence of violent crime or at least accidents in the home?  I didn't end myself from the frustration of clearing my throat every 23 seconds all night.  My husband didn't place a pillow lovingly over my face and end both our suffering.  However, there were a few moments experienced in accessing this product that had me peering over the brink.  In the end, all that resulted was another household accident, precipitated by the packaging materials of this product.

I understand that this design is useful for protecting children, reducing environmental impact, and maximizing your bottom line.  What I would recommend is that you consider more closely that older users of this product may become frustrated and try other more dangerous methods to open this package(my father comes to mind as the sort of man who overuses force, as when he used a bulldozer to jump start his pick-up).  They may choose the same method I did and sever a major artery with their implement of choice.

I have a suggestion for the name of the campaign to fix this ignorificance.  "Look Sharp!:The campaign to end the ironic injury to the cold sufferer accessing medication".

Sincerely,

Myrtle Shagnasty, Walk-in Clinic Nurse, for Maggie S.

Close the Books on Another Year

The New Year brings that time for reflection.  "What do I have to show for this revolution of the Earth 'round the Sun?"  Birthdays, too, often cause us to reflect on another 365 days of life and how we've used them.  Fortunately, for me, my birthday is only a couple of weeks away, and I can dispense with this dutiful existential examination of my belly button lint this month and move on.

You should be so lucky.

Anyway.

2011 brought me some important events...

1) Somehow or 'nother, I made the Jayme Daily, the same week I opened my Twitter account.  I don't think I've tweeted since.  It's weird and awkward.  Or I am.

2) Somehow or 'nother, I lived through the adjustment to bringing another member into the family.  I now know that it will be the job of a lifetime, and yeah, Michelle Duggar can bring new humans into the world until it kills her, but it will not be as hard as helping adopted people find their place in this world.  God made us all for a purpose, Michelle for hers and me for mine and never the twain shall meet.  I ask Him what He was thinking... a lot.

3) I can now officially say I have heard the stupidest thing I have ever heard in my life.  You know that one Katy Perry song?  The first line of that song says, "Do you ever feel like a plastic bag?" 

You know what, Katy?  Maybe.  I've never thought about it, but this could explain my recent feelings of worthlessness.  I am feeling like a plastic bag.

Or is it  euphemism for an older lady who's had a lot of cosmetic procedures...  You know, "Plastic".  "Bag".

See...

Stupidest thing.

Ever.

In my life.

And the best, because several times a day, I say, in the girls' hearing, "Mickey, that just makes me feel like a plastic bag."

The girls are just beside themselves.

Hilarity.  Stupid.  Hilarity.

I dare 2012 to serve up anything more stupid than that.

It's also time to decide how I am going to write on this big blank piece of paper called the new year.  The reason for "resolutions"(such a quaint old word), is that looking back on the wanton wildness of the last year should inevitably bring to mind areas of my life that could stand an overhaul.  Or at least a little attention.

Yeah,  I have been doing that, too.

1) I have to take better care of my health. Across the board.  I would go into detail, but you've heard it all before.  I don't have any real plan mapped out.

2) Yet, again, the desktop is out of commission and I am on Mickey's work machine.  Which shines the light on my inconsistency and lack of a plan... I need a plan.

3) I have to school the fire out of these children. For all my bluster, they really still appear to believe they are running the show.  As testified to by their exceptionally saucy mouths.

Even though there appear to be 3 items in the above list, there really is only one.  I have to grow up and get organized.

I seriously contemplated quitting the blog over the last several days, but I looked back over it.  And decided to see about going with my strengths.  (I have given up the fight for a well made Cherry Dr. Pepper Limeade, but a Lemonberry Slush is almost as good.)  I find that when I look back, there is a clear difference in the types of responses and I had to decide what I was here for.

I have had a couple of interesting experiences this last few weeks.

--someone told me I was smart.  Intimidating smart. I think that is weird.
--someone else called me out on being totally snippy and not a joy on Christmas in the nicest way, "God has just laid it on my heart to pray that you will be able to find joy in the day".  I was in a place where I said, "Thank you, I really need that."  And you know what I realized?  Christmas isn't Mother's Day. I am a pretty selfish gal.
 --I got to be with friends this week.  It was just a nice week.  Backbreaking.  Non-stop.  Refreshing. Exhausting.  Abundant.  More weirderness.

On the threshold...
ready to close the door on all that.
Like forcing a too-full closet door shut.
There is pain and loneliness in there.
There is hunger and hard decisions.

I am not afraid to open the new door.
An empty room.
One nice wooden easel with a canvas
yet untouched.
No stink of failure soaked in these walls
the junk hasn't blocked
the Light.

Back turned to Him
these last few months.
Still He beckons to the pure unwritten page.

Adores.  Waits.  Plans for me.
Trusting is harder
than before.

I have nothing to lose
stepping through the door.

Take It Where You Find It

Cleaned the big bathroom today.  Best my mood has been in a week or two.  If that isn't a crying shame, I don't know what is.

The children are happy and jovial.  Except the one.  At a time.

The days leading up to Christmas are soooooo long.

So, back to the bathroom...

I browned up 5 pounds of hamburger meat.  I got four pounds of meat for the freezer and waaaaay more than a pound of ugly fat.  At any rate, it went into the freezer.  Ready to go for next time I need to start with a pund of browned ground round.

No, that wasn't the bathroom.  What I meant to say  was that chores seem to make me happy.

I mopped.  The. Floor.

I cleaned the light fixture.

Scrubbed behind the commode.

Made "spaghetti".  Not in the bathroom.

Took the children to Target to shop for friends.  Saw some people who go to my church.  They looked the same as they did on Sunday.

If we could have Christmas without the break.  A little cooped up.  They aren't as cute without breaks. I learn more about their world view.  How they come across to friends.

What not.

Criminy.

Teens are such a blessing.  Let no one tell you otherwise.

We were praying for a friend today in the car.  It was keeping me from flipping people off in traffic.  I hope that is not offensive; either way, it's the fact.

I digress.

I realized that we all have stuff.  Some of us have basic hard times.  Others carry dark secrets.  Life is no joke.

I stopped what I was discussing with the Lord long enough to ask Him that with all my faults and failures, the things I do right or well.  Could he please give me but this one thing.  That we have a house where you can own your medals of honor and don't have to fear to ask for help for your wounds or be ashamed of your failures. 

What I failed to emphasize in that dreary post yesterday, is that a friend prayed for me Friday and I suddenly realized I was whining about a party.  My kids are healthy, my husband is employed.  I needed to pull up my big girl panties and shut up and party.  There are people who have a much harder thing going on than us.

 I don't know.

The bathroom is clean.

Life is full of delight.

Christmas Magic

The office Christmas party?  Dull, but no one showed their girdle. Big boss had walked in the office with a big smile on his face the day before and I had just cut him a look (not the right thing to do at all, but I had just drawn my hands out of a stranger's commode.  My rubber glove had torn, so the toilet water had touched my hand and by the time stupid boss guy flashed his giant grin, I was in no mood to pretend "it's all good".).  I thought I could sort of tell he and his wife were treating me differently, but whatever.  I can only re-iterate that we aren't really friends(I have spent more time with the tellers at my bank this year).  He feels there has to be a party and we feel compelled to attend.  Fortunately, the other partner hosted with her new husband.  The food was great, they had a gift for each household (beyond the ornament exchange)and Mickey and I brought home the gag gift, per usual.  On the way there, we realized we had forgotten to pay the mortgage, so I never really entered in, anyway.

Anyway.

Yeah, still procrastinating on the Santa thing with the boy.  He is keeping his mouth shut after his sister who cares not about anyone else's feelings hollered, "There's no Santa," at him. I think he thinks she is wrong.  He and I need to discuss it.  We were out the other day and there was an instrumental recording playing and Mickey asked me what the song was... It was " I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus".  He got a look on his face like "Eeew, how completely inappropriate."

In the meantime, I am beginning to doubt my stance.  Occasionally, that little inner voice has whispered, "You hate fun," since I posted in September about my kids making their own fun, then about not Trick or Treating; I have more an more often seen myself from the outside looking in.  It looks like we haven't had much fun with the kids or each other or anything else.

In spite of all this, Christmas is coming anyway.

Somehow, friends have come alongside.  We could not have done anything without their help.  There will be presents under the tree.  We are total charity cases this year, but God has reminded me that He sees.  His people are His hands and His feet.  It is irritating to be humbled.  It is humbling finding out who cares most about you and who either doesn't care enough to know or knows and doesn't care enough to just squeeze a hand.

By His grace:
-bills are current.
-there will be something under the tree.
-stockings will be filled.
-Mickey is still employed. (They haven't done the holiday firing. Yet.)
-friends have gathered around to encourage us.
-there is plenty of food in the kitchen.

Amongst all the emotion and the fight for fun...  I realized that last week marked the anniversary of Mickey's mother's death, 2 years ago.  6 years ago, this week, my grandma and great-grandma passed away within 27 hours.  Gah, no wonder we struggle to enjoy the season.  So that is filed away.

This afternoon, we are going to "Market Square" to the Holiday Ice Skating place and a friend and I will visit while our children skate.  See.  I am fun.

The girls got to go Swing Dancing with college friends on Monday night.  See? Fun!!! Right?

I don't know what tomorrow holds.  But I can't prove that Santa didn't put me back in front of Jesus again this year.

Is It Reeeeeally The Most Wonderful?

Okay, first of all, is it more relaxing to look at the page with the side bar back on the right where it belongs?  I know I spend almost no time looking at the Home Page here, but the side bar on the left was making my eyelid twitch.

Aahhh.

With one thing ("the play"...right up until I ran out of gas coming home from the cast party) and another (the alternator belt on the other car broke, so we are temporarily a one car family), and another (my freaking doctor will not pay attention to me) I really haven't started to feel very festive.

There is a big clock ticking.  It is the countdown.  To.  The. Office. Christmas. Party.

In the best of times, this is a fiasco.  It has no relationship to general job satisfaction.  Lowlights of past years include, but are not limited to:
--the co-worker's wife in the "sweatshirt-dress with-appliquee-kittens-in-Santa-hats-outlined-with-glitter-glue" dress, who got so drunk she couldn't sit up.  Loudly talking throughout the whole "dirty Santa" torture.  Trying to keep the dress from riding up as she slid off the sofa.  ...Later that year, burned her house; blamed her dog. (First firm out of college, 1996)
--the boss' wife who sang the Star-Spangled banner along with the recording of Whitney Houston from the Super Bowl.  Again and again.  ...Her husband later paid Christmas bonuses out of his wallet.  Everyone who was there at 4:00p.m. on Christmas Eve got one.  That's right, they're doin' it for the Andrews. (Second Firm 2001)
--The third firm Mickey worked for was repeatedly voted best workplace in [Major] City.  Didn't have holiday parties because they didn't want to offend those who didn't celebrate Hannukah, Chanukah, Christmas, Winter Solstice or Kwanzaa.  However, someone repeatedly ate Mickey's plate of holiday leftovers.
--Another co-worker's wife who drunkenly insisted that I was wrong and that I did know a man she worked with and had in fact entertained him as a guest in my home. (Which was not really a Christmas Party thing.  She did it every time I saw her.  But, Gah!!!  After the third time, drunk or sober, give up.)  ...Her husband later was fired for dishonesty. (Current firm)
--For the last five years, we have been treated to the cheapest and most convenient celebration for the owner of the firm.  Which, for three consecutive years, included going to his house in another town. We are expected to be on time; the office closes at 5:30.  The party starts at 6:00.  There are plenty of alcoholic beverages and soft drinks, but no appetizers.  So if you want you can be completely full and have all the calories you need for the week by the time the dinner bell gets rung.  The menu is more or less randomly assembled and has included deer sausage from his own hunt. (Spring for some Hickory Farms.)  Once we traveled in a weather advisory. 

Some of the people who work for this firm get together after hours and hang out.  Most of us don't.  There are nine(9) total people in the firm.  What I am saying is...why do we call it a party if:
a) we have no choice?
b) it is with people who, by mutual agreement we wouldn't socialize with otherwise?
3) we have to play "dirty Santa"?

Gotta go search for a way out.

Quick!  Tell me a story that will make me feel better about having to go to this party. 

 

No Matter Who You Are

I like to think that if I was very wealthy, I would still be careful with my money.  The truth is, if that were true, we wouldn't be where we are now.

At any rate, I do hope that I will be a discerning customer, a conscientious consumer, and a generous citizen.  And it is in this fantasy role, that I bring you the following story.

I am thankful that for the lack of income, we enjoy pretty decent benefits.  They aren't what we had in another state, but state laws differ.  So there.  They are still decent.

No matter how good they are, I treat the expenditure like it is right out of my pocket.

So you can imagine my surprise when I too the kids to have their eyeglass prescriptions filled and found that though I had paid only the $15 co-pay for the Small Fry's and around $30 total out-of-pocket for Diva M's, that they would be $85 and $200 respectively at the "Fast Place in the Mall".

I said, "I will keep shopping; thank you for your time."

We stopped at the "Big Anchor Store That Sells Everything From Support Hose To Car Batteries".  The elderly lady on the phone, the waiting customer and the fact that they didn't have a room, but just a recess in the wall, caused me to turn on my worn down heel and walk out.

Of course, *sigh*, we ended up at The "Discount Store We All Hate But Can't Ignore".  The slow speaking clerk didn't start off to inspire any type of confidence.  Really, I could discern that she thought I was ignorant and uneducated.  Really? She began to warm up when she realized that I have insurance and a flexible medical spending account.

The insurance, for reasons all its own, only covers new frames for 7 year-old boys, every two (2) years.  Small Fry is not as rough as most of his age mates, but that is ridiculous.  I was feeling all expansive and sprung for new frames because the ones he has have made me crazy from the first moment.  They have never fit right and are all that flexible wire and we can get them adjusted every day and they just relax back into out of place.

Her first pair of glasses came from there, her second pair came from the place with the car batteries.  She has never lost or broken a pair because of negligence.  The first pair broke because it gave out.  Insurance had changed to something that no one else in my whole town had heard of...  Since then, the firm has changed again because that one sucked.

Total expenditure after insurance for a full pair of children's glasses and one full adult pair: $39.  Same insurance, same prescriptions.  Perfectly acceptable level of quality assured through previous experience.

Long overdue... WIN!!!

The Right Way and the Other Way

Word is more or less out.

More, because every time I turn on the news, I see other families who are struggling to make ends meet.  The News.  Every time.

Less, because in our personal lives, we feel like we are weekly having to humiliate ourselves.  There are two responses to another person's hard times... sensitivity and dignity or the other one.

Sensitivity and dignity... "I know things have been tight.  I was cleaning house and found some things. I would like to give you for the kids.  You know, spinbrushes, shower gels...stocking stuffers.  It wouldn't be from me, it could be from Santa or you guys or whatever you want to do.  I just wanted to offer. We are in a position to help this year, and I know that one of these days you will be able to help someone else. Maybe us."

I got that all out of order, but there it is.

The other one... Wednesday before Thanksgiving: "I heard you might need the money and I prefer to hire middle schoolers because they aren't usually able to make more money elsewhere and they are more trainable and I would like to have your girls clean for me this afternoon for four hours.  I have people coming in."

(I told her we had a choir performance that day and were partly concerned about our own holiday celebration.  She was miffed. And, no, my girls aren't middle schoolers.)

Saturday: She:"Wonder if the girls are busy today."
Me: I am taking M. to get her glasses and then we have a play performance in the afternoon.
She: I only need them for four hours.
Me: I am right now looking for Bro's Rx and we are going to head out.  I don't know how long it will take.
She: So the girls are just going along for the ride.
Me:  No.  Bro needs glasses and M needs glasses and ...[Further details on our whole day and all the reasons why I am doing it this way.]
She: Well, you don't need to tell me all that.  I need someone to clean before company comes and then I will need someone again before the holiday.  I am prepared to pay $5/hour.  If they aren't available today, we can do it tomorrow afternoon or Tuesday afternoon.  I will need them for four hours and I will see if my husband can come pick them up.
Me:  I will have to check and see what all else we have coming up.

(This is not all of it, but in all this, I mentioned that the girls were 14.)

Voice Mail 10 minutes later: You mentioned that the girls were older.  I am prepared to pay $7/hour.  Which is more than I pay J and E, who normally do it for me (she has never said whether this rate is each or for the set). And my husband can pick them up.

To be honest, I think one of my girls would make her re-think her position on hiring young people of a certain age.  She didn't ask.  I could clean the devil out of her house, but she didn't ask me.  She never asked anything.  She assumed.

While I was writing I remembered I had screened her Sunday afternoon...grabbed that voice mail... "I feel like I owe you an apology and I would like to make it."  I know, now I know I have to return her call.

Today is filled.  I am providing a ride for the daughter of some friends who called and asked me to get her to campus and back because they are having a scheduling thing.  She has a final today and neither mom nor dad nor older sister are able to swing this.  They asked.  It isn't particularly convenient, but we are friends and they have a need.  I agreed without hesitation.  There is no money involved.

Carrie sent me a tiara this week.  I need encouragement.  She can feel it.  I am extremely blessed.  It raised my head.  It went straight to my heart.

So, money is tight.  That is not all we are or all we have.  I am so glad I have friends who remind me that I am a friend and worth more than the difference between our bank balances.