Mr. Rivers sat unblinkingly at his desk.
"Tap tap tap," went the old tree against the panes of the window.
"Tap tap tap," went Mr. Rivers' pencil on the desk. He had been staring at the blank wall across the study for over half an hour now and to no avail. The plain beige paint wasn't exactly giving him the spark of enlightenment he needed right now. With a sigh and a grunt, Mr. Rivers sat back in his chair. The old chair creeked against the hardwood floor in protest to the weight shift. He rolled his head to the side and stared at the bookself to the left of his desk. Old, dusty books stared back at him. When was the last time anyone had dusted this office? Oh well, he thought, old books are supposed to be dusty anyway.
Mr. Rivers looked around the rest of the study. It was exactly what he thought a good study should look like: dark wood covered the floor and shone in the reflected light of the fire in the hearth. The mantel was large and took up almost one whole wall. It held some dusty old photographs but predominitly featured a carved pipe placed on stands in the center. Mr. Rivers was not a big smoker, the pipe was mostly for effect, but he did take it down every now and then, when he was deep in thought, to take a few puffs. In front of the fireplace were two arm chairs placed at an angle on a crimson rug. They were just the kind of chairs you would expect in a study; chairs that looked like they had come out of an old Sherlock Holmes movie. The opposite wall was covered in bookshelves holding his precious books, as well as a few other odds and ends. His desk sat in front of the window, facing the blank wall and the doorway. It was a good desk: dark, carved and polished wood, heavy and ornate. The desk was his favorite part of the office. It was his working place, his creative haven and his thinking corner.
"Tap tap tap," went the old tree. It was ticking away the minutes, the hours, that Mr. Rivers sat at his desk thinking about nothing. With another sigh, he pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose and pulled himself up from his chair. Nothing had come to him, and nothing would. It was time to chalk the situation up as a loss and move on.
Mr. Rivers opened the door of the study and walked down the hallway to the sitting room.
"Alright," he said to his somber son, "you can keep the puppy."
As he turned and walked back down the hall to the sounds of his children and their new pet celebrating, he couldn't help but smile just a tiny, private smile. Sometimes not being able to find the answer is the only answer you're going to get.
Friday, October 30, 2009
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Oft I gaze
Idle eye,
Past the surface
To your heart.
Hard to read.
I used to know,
So well...
Now,
Unfamaliar to me.
Lo, a twinkle.
Nay,
Mistaken.
Could it be?
Alas,
Not taken.
Shy,
I feel.
Slowly breaking.
Strangers pass,
Hark!
Unseeing.
Wispers rise.
Stop!
Believing.
Enemies now?
No,
Indifferent.
Behold, a glance?
No,
you missed it.
Strange to me,
Yet,
Familiar.
Idle eye,
Past the surface
To your heart.
Hard to read.
I used to know,
So well...
Now,
Unfamaliar to me.
Lo, a twinkle.
Nay,
Mistaken.
Could it be?
Alas,
Not taken.
Shy,
I feel.
Slowly breaking.
Strangers pass,
Hark!
Unseeing.
Wispers rise.
Stop!
Believing.
Enemies now?
No,
Indifferent.
Behold, a glance?
No,
you missed it.
Strange to me,
Yet,
Familiar.
Slumber parties
Last night I lay snuggled between my husband and my cat. Everything was quite. I could tell Trey was asleep because his breathing had gotten slower and heavier. I could tell Moxie was out, cause she had stopped purring and her nose was wistling like it sometimes does in her sleep. And that's when I realized that I was wide awake. I was afraid to move because I didn't want to wake anyone up, but all was quiet and I was wide, wide awake.
It reminded me of being at slumber parties and being the last one to fall asleep. It always seemed like that person, the last one awake, was me. I remember lying there in my sleeping bag, or whatever bedding we had rigged up, listening, hoping someone besides me was awake. I remember whispering softly into the darkness, sending out a signal and waiting for someone, anyone, to answer back. I hated being the last one awake at slumber parties, and yet it seemed I always was.
When I was little, more often than not, I would end up calling my parents in the middle of the night to come pick me up. I guess that makes me seem kind of lame but *apparently* I just couldn't hack it. I think my parents started to expect it. I liked the fun before bed but once everyone was asleep and I wasn't? That didn't really do it for me. And to top that off, usually I would psyche my self out. When I was little it was just general scared-of-the-darkness. I don't remember what I was afraid of but I know I was always afraid of something. And in a sleeping bag, on the floor, in a strange house it's a lot harder to hide from imagined fears than it is in your own bed with your parents close at hand. When I got older scary movies, practically a staple at slumber parties, where what kept me up. Of course, by then, I was too old to call home to be rescued. So I didn't get much sleep.
The scariest slumber party I remember wasn't from movies or imagined fears though. When I was just a little tyke, ok, fourth grade, my friends and I had befriended this unpopular girl at school. We decided to spend the night at her house one time, I think it was her birthday. Her dad was really sick and he slept out in the living room in an armchair. I don't know why but I was basically terrified of her dad. And the living room was where we were to spend the night as well. I suspect it was his ragged breathing through his oxygen tubing in the night that did it. There was no way I was spending the night there. And I wasn't the only one who called home.
I always wondered if we had hurt that girl's feelings. It's not like her life wasn't hard enough, then to have all her friends leave her birthday party in the middle of the night...well. I just hope we had enough tact to come up with a reason that wasn't related to her dad. I hope I said I wasn't feeling well, something. I heard her dad died a few years later.
So I guess I basically don't really like slumber parties. I mean, they are ok now. In later years I liked hanging out with my friends and sleeping over well enough. But mostly, I'm a homebody. I would just rather be at home. That way, if I'm the last one awake, I can just put notes in my phone about slumber parties so I can write a blog later. And then I can roll over in my husband's arms and fall asleep, content.
It reminded me of being at slumber parties and being the last one to fall asleep. It always seemed like that person, the last one awake, was me. I remember lying there in my sleeping bag, or whatever bedding we had rigged up, listening, hoping someone besides me was awake. I remember whispering softly into the darkness, sending out a signal and waiting for someone, anyone, to answer back. I hated being the last one awake at slumber parties, and yet it seemed I always was.
When I was little, more often than not, I would end up calling my parents in the middle of the night to come pick me up. I guess that makes me seem kind of lame but *apparently* I just couldn't hack it. I think my parents started to expect it. I liked the fun before bed but once everyone was asleep and I wasn't? That didn't really do it for me. And to top that off, usually I would psyche my self out. When I was little it was just general scared-of-the-darkness. I don't remember what I was afraid of but I know I was always afraid of something. And in a sleeping bag, on the floor, in a strange house it's a lot harder to hide from imagined fears than it is in your own bed with your parents close at hand. When I got older scary movies, practically a staple at slumber parties, where what kept me up. Of course, by then, I was too old to call home to be rescued. So I didn't get much sleep.
The scariest slumber party I remember wasn't from movies or imagined fears though. When I was just a little tyke, ok, fourth grade, my friends and I had befriended this unpopular girl at school. We decided to spend the night at her house one time, I think it was her birthday. Her dad was really sick and he slept out in the living room in an armchair. I don't know why but I was basically terrified of her dad. And the living room was where we were to spend the night as well. I suspect it was his ragged breathing through his oxygen tubing in the night that did it. There was no way I was spending the night there. And I wasn't the only one who called home.
I always wondered if we had hurt that girl's feelings. It's not like her life wasn't hard enough, then to have all her friends leave her birthday party in the middle of the night...well. I just hope we had enough tact to come up with a reason that wasn't related to her dad. I hope I said I wasn't feeling well, something. I heard her dad died a few years later.
So I guess I basically don't really like slumber parties. I mean, they are ok now. In later years I liked hanging out with my friends and sleeping over well enough. But mostly, I'm a homebody. I would just rather be at home. That way, if I'm the last one awake, I can just put notes in my phone about slumber parties so I can write a blog later. And then I can roll over in my husband's arms and fall asleep, content.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Sing
So I've basically decided that I should write a musical. I do that a lot don't I? Decide things.
So that's my plan. Unfortunately I don't have a story or any songs yet; just the idea that I would like to write a musical. Actually, I don't have any idea how to write songs. I can write poetry but I'm not sure that's the same as writing songs. Also, I'm not sure that writing songs for musicals is the same as writing songs in general. Also also, I have no idea how to write music. If I'm going to write a musical can I just write the words to the songs and then someone else can put music to them? I guess it's my musical so, really, I can do whatever I want.
I used to be able to sing. I think. Well, to be more accurate, I used to not be able to sing and then I went to thearpy and then I could sing. But not thearpy for singing. Just regular thearpy. True story. But a story for another time. O my gosh I think I just had the idea for my musical! I'm a freakin hero. Anyway, I couldn't sing and then I could and now I can't again. It's really strange. I like to sing, and I sing a lot, usually when I'm by myself. Ok I just realized that I lied. I don't sing a lot. I don't even know why I said that. It just flowed from my fingers. Odd. So I can't sing and *apparently* I'm a compulsive liar.
Ok so back to the point. If this has a point. I can't sing: I try but it's like I lost my ability to stay on key. It's really odd. And, frankly, kind of embarassing. I did used to love to sing. Now when I'm in the car I usually don't do anything but think. And talk to myself in my head. I guess that's why I want to go into writing, and not singing. Most of my ideas come to me while I'm driving.
Do you know those people who can't be in the car without having music on? It's like they can't be alone with their thoughts. I bet none of those people are writers. It's not that I don't like music, I do. But most of the time I don't even think to turn it on because I'm already lost in thought by the time I turn the car on.
Ok so after that huge rabbit trail, I guess my point was that in order to express myself musically I'll have to write a musical since I can't sing. Also, I guess I made the point that I can't write the music for my musical since I am not musically talented. See? Not a rabbit trail at all.
O ya, and I think I could be musically talented. I used to play the flute and the piano and the guitar and I was pretty good (at least at the first two. I couldn't get past the pain of growing callus's on my baby fingers with the guitar.) and I was a fast learner. Just wanted to clarify that I am not *entirely* musically enept. But I can't play any of those things now. So maybe I am. Ugh.
So that's my plan. Unfortunately I don't have a story or any songs yet; just the idea that I would like to write a musical. Actually, I don't have any idea how to write songs. I can write poetry but I'm not sure that's the same as writing songs. Also, I'm not sure that writing songs for musicals is the same as writing songs in general. Also also, I have no idea how to write music. If I'm going to write a musical can I just write the words to the songs and then someone else can put music to them? I guess it's my musical so, really, I can do whatever I want.
I used to be able to sing. I think. Well, to be more accurate, I used to not be able to sing and then I went to thearpy and then I could sing. But not thearpy for singing. Just regular thearpy. True story. But a story for another time. O my gosh I think I just had the idea for my musical! I'm a freakin hero. Anyway, I couldn't sing and then I could and now I can't again. It's really strange. I like to sing, and I sing a lot, usually when I'm by myself. Ok I just realized that I lied. I don't sing a lot. I don't even know why I said that. It just flowed from my fingers. Odd. So I can't sing and *apparently* I'm a compulsive liar.
Ok so back to the point. If this has a point. I can't sing: I try but it's like I lost my ability to stay on key. It's really odd. And, frankly, kind of embarassing. I did used to love to sing. Now when I'm in the car I usually don't do anything but think. And talk to myself in my head. I guess that's why I want to go into writing, and not singing. Most of my ideas come to me while I'm driving.
Do you know those people who can't be in the car without having music on? It's like they can't be alone with their thoughts. I bet none of those people are writers. It's not that I don't like music, I do. But most of the time I don't even think to turn it on because I'm already lost in thought by the time I turn the car on.
Ok so after that huge rabbit trail, I guess my point was that in order to express myself musically I'll have to write a musical since I can't sing. Also, I guess I made the point that I can't write the music for my musical since I am not musically talented. See? Not a rabbit trail at all.
O ya, and I think I could be musically talented. I used to play the flute and the piano and the guitar and I was pretty good (at least at the first two. I couldn't get past the pain of growing callus's on my baby fingers with the guitar.) and I was a fast learner. Just wanted to clarify that I am not *entirely* musically enept. But I can't play any of those things now. So maybe I am. Ugh.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Car
I've had my car since I was 17. It wan't technically my first car, my first car was an old white van, but I don't really count that van.
I have a 2002 Hyundai Elentra. It is the same car as my mom. Well, my mom's is much nicer. It has leather seats and a moon roof and all the other perks that my poor car doesnt. Still, I love my car. I've been through a lot with the old girl. We've been through breakups and stress-screaming sessions with my friends. We've had flat tires and late nights. We've traveled back and forth to school, and back and forth across the county together several times. It's one of those places I've always felt safe. It's a place where I could cry and be alone. A place where I could travel and escape. I love my car.
I know someday I'm going to get a new car. I'm sure it will be nice and probably bigger. It will probably be the car that carts my babies around and takes kids to soccer practice. But this car took me to soccer practice and took me through acting like a baby and I'm not ready to give it up yet.
Trey and I had been talking about the possibility of having a baby soon. It's been weighing on my mind and, now that my sister-in-law is having a little girl, well I'm getting the itch in a strong way. But today we found out that my car needs a new clutch. It's not a big deal. In fact, that my car lasted this long without needing one is kind of a miracle. I mean, my mom had hers changed over a year ago and mine has many more miles. But my car hasn't been a safe place anymore. It's scary to merge into traffic with no power and it's scary to barely be able to make it up hills. It was a place I'd never been before with my car and I didn't feel safe at all.
So we've decided to wait on the whole baby front. Origionally we had talked about not getting a new clutch and, instead, looking at new cars for me. Baby carrying cars. But it scared me when I saw money getting tight. I don't like to feel unsafe like that. And it's not time to bring a baby, and expensive baby, into that. So we're replacing the clutch. Which means I'll probably have a few more good years with my car. Which gives us time to save up. And I can be ok with that I guess.
I have a 2002 Hyundai Elentra. It is the same car as my mom. Well, my mom's is much nicer. It has leather seats and a moon roof and all the other perks that my poor car doesnt. Still, I love my car. I've been through a lot with the old girl. We've been through breakups and stress-screaming sessions with my friends. We've had flat tires and late nights. We've traveled back and forth to school, and back and forth across the county together several times. It's one of those places I've always felt safe. It's a place where I could cry and be alone. A place where I could travel and escape. I love my car.
I know someday I'm going to get a new car. I'm sure it will be nice and probably bigger. It will probably be the car that carts my babies around and takes kids to soccer practice. But this car took me to soccer practice and took me through acting like a baby and I'm not ready to give it up yet.
Trey and I had been talking about the possibility of having a baby soon. It's been weighing on my mind and, now that my sister-in-law is having a little girl, well I'm getting the itch in a strong way. But today we found out that my car needs a new clutch. It's not a big deal. In fact, that my car lasted this long without needing one is kind of a miracle. I mean, my mom had hers changed over a year ago and mine has many more miles. But my car hasn't been a safe place anymore. It's scary to merge into traffic with no power and it's scary to barely be able to make it up hills. It was a place I'd never been before with my car and I didn't feel safe at all.
So we've decided to wait on the whole baby front. Origionally we had talked about not getting a new clutch and, instead, looking at new cars for me. Baby carrying cars. But it scared me when I saw money getting tight. I don't like to feel unsafe like that. And it's not time to bring a baby, and expensive baby, into that. So we're replacing the clutch. Which means I'll probably have a few more good years with my car. Which gives us time to save up. And I can be ok with that I guess.
Friday, October 23, 2009
Disney
In my last post I promised a happy post about Disney. This is what I started writing on my phone on the tram on the way back from Magic Kingdom one night:
Disney smells like waffle cones and tastes like magic.
Coming back to the real world was like jumping off a cliff: you dread the inevitable collision the whole way, and when you finally hit the bottom it was worse than you could even have imagined.
I found myself envying the Disney staff. Surely here was a solid contingent of people who loved coming to work everyday. How could you not in the happiest place on earth?
I thought about Walt Disney: how his work and his vision has changed peoples lives and brought a rare kind of magic into a world that has forgotten magic so much in it's endless race of mundane. What must it be like to have a legacy that big? To be gone and yet have a thousand people touched by you everyday?
Can I even describe the magic of Disney? I think not. If you've been, you know. When I think about it it slips to the corners of my mind. The corners where I store things that are too good to be true. It is like that sweet that you hide from yourself and keep coming back to, only to say "not yet. Next time." I'm afraid to think too much about it because I'm afraid it will slip from my mind and the magic will disappear.
And yet I can't stop thinking about it. Of course I can't. I want to read about it and analyze it and sing Disney songs.
I'll admit, I was skeptical at first. I mean, how many times have I gone into something that people have raved about and been disappointed? Tons. So sometimes it's hard for me to believe that something can really be "as good as they say." And then we started off in Universal, and it was good and it was fun, but it wasn't magic. So I thought I had been right, that people had talked Disney up so much that I was going to be disappointed. But then we got to the Magic Kingdom. And there I found the magic I had been craving.
I feel, a lot of the time, that I am abnormal. I feel like I have the heart and spirit of a child while trying to live in an adult world. I'm responsible and I feel like I at least act like a grownup (mostly), but inside I sometimes live in this fantasy world. It's a hard place to be because these two aspects of my personality aren't really compatible. I guess what I'm trying to say is that Disney was a release for me. I could finally relax. It was a place where adults can live in a fantasy world too.
So, naturally, I didn't want to come back. It was super hard for me. I dreaded coming back like I've never dreaded anything before. Except possibly giving blood. That crap makes me want to vomit. I fought it and I cried. I tried to think of ways to stay and I refused to think about going home.
Obviously, I'm back now. It couldn't be helped. I have to be a grownup and deal with it. And it gets easier everyday.
Ok enough of that. Excuse me, I'm going to go listen to some Disney and eat chocolate.
Disney smells like waffle cones and tastes like magic.
Coming back to the real world was like jumping off a cliff: you dread the inevitable collision the whole way, and when you finally hit the bottom it was worse than you could even have imagined.
I found myself envying the Disney staff. Surely here was a solid contingent of people who loved coming to work everyday. How could you not in the happiest place on earth?
I thought about Walt Disney: how his work and his vision has changed peoples lives and brought a rare kind of magic into a world that has forgotten magic so much in it's endless race of mundane. What must it be like to have a legacy that big? To be gone and yet have a thousand people touched by you everyday?
Can I even describe the magic of Disney? I think not. If you've been, you know. When I think about it it slips to the corners of my mind. The corners where I store things that are too good to be true. It is like that sweet that you hide from yourself and keep coming back to, only to say "not yet. Next time." I'm afraid to think too much about it because I'm afraid it will slip from my mind and the magic will disappear.
And yet I can't stop thinking about it. Of course I can't. I want to read about it and analyze it and sing Disney songs.
I'll admit, I was skeptical at first. I mean, how many times have I gone into something that people have raved about and been disappointed? Tons. So sometimes it's hard for me to believe that something can really be "as good as they say." And then we started off in Universal, and it was good and it was fun, but it wasn't magic. So I thought I had been right, that people had talked Disney up so much that I was going to be disappointed. But then we got to the Magic Kingdom. And there I found the magic I had been craving.
I feel, a lot of the time, that I am abnormal. I feel like I have the heart and spirit of a child while trying to live in an adult world. I'm responsible and I feel like I at least act like a grownup (mostly), but inside I sometimes live in this fantasy world. It's a hard place to be because these two aspects of my personality aren't really compatible. I guess what I'm trying to say is that Disney was a release for me. I could finally relax. It was a place where adults can live in a fantasy world too.
So, naturally, I didn't want to come back. It was super hard for me. I dreaded coming back like I've never dreaded anything before. Except possibly giving blood. That crap makes me want to vomit. I fought it and I cried. I tried to think of ways to stay and I refused to think about going home.
Obviously, I'm back now. It couldn't be helped. I have to be a grownup and deal with it. And it gets easier everyday.
Ok enough of that. Excuse me, I'm going to go listen to some Disney and eat chocolate.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Why I am blessed
So I just got back from Disney World. It was wonderful and magical and I am going to write a blog about it. I am going to write a blog that is full of happy things and fun. This is not that blog.
This blog is about the very end of my trip. This blog is about stress and sad things. But it will be ok. Read on.
On what was to be our last day in the Disney parks, Trey woke up feeling sick and with a high fever. After texting the people we were supposed to be staying the last two nights of our trip with, to cancel, I found out that she (who is a nurse) had some advice and also some tamiflu. Really, Trey probably should have gone to the doctor. I mean, this was looking like swine flu. SWINE FLU! In DISNEY WORLD. Boo. Did I mention that Trey had left his insurance card at home? Trey left his insurance card at home. I called a walk in clinic (this was Sunday by the way) and found out it was going to cost almost $300 for him to just see the doctor, and that wasn't including medicine.
So I did the only thing I really could do: I called the front desk and booked another night at the hotel and set off to drive an hour and a half away to get medicine from our friends. By myself. In a car that has been acting up. Did I mention that my car has been acting up? My car has been acting up. The clutch is going out and the steering wheel was shaking like it was having seizures.
Ok. So I drive out to my friends house to meet her and get the medicine. After a tour of her (very cute) house, and a chat, I set out to bring healing medicine to my husband, feeling very Balto. And I'm driving and I'm driving and I'm thinking, "almost home! And then this mess will be over!" And suddenly, my car jerks and makes this weird noise like I blew a tire. ( I know what this is like because I have blown a tire before. Not fun.) I was like 20 miles from my exit so I pull over to check all my tires. After deciding that everything looked peachy-keen-jelly-bean, I got back in my car and headed off again. A few more miles down the road my steering wheel really started freaking out. It felt like it was going to shake right off the dashboard. If felt like it was going to shake my arms right off. It felt like I was trying to steer a charging bull. And then my car made this terrifying sound and I knew something was really wrong. So I pulled back over and discovered I had a very flat, very busted front right tire. Bummer. No, bummer doesn't do it. Bigger than bummer. Lucky me, at that point I was only a mile from my exit. So I called my father-in-law to let him know. And then I started to try and change my tire.
Now it's not like I don't know how to change a tire. My dad made me change the tires on my mom's car in the driveway until I could do it myself. And it's a darn good thing he did because I have had to do it 3 times now. By myself. Ya. The first time my parents were in Canada and I was 18 years old on my way to pick up my brother from school. That time, my mom called my ex boyfriend to come and help me and there was NO WAY I was about to let that happen so I fixed that tire myself and had it done by the time he got there. Take that! The second time I had just moved to Alabama and no one would come and help me because everyone was too busy. So I changed that sucker myself in a dark high school parking lot. A cop did show up eventually. His contribution? He shined his search light on the tire to "help me see." For some reason helping the tiny 19 year old girl change her tire in creepy parking lot never occured to him as a way to help. Odd. And the last time was this time. And ya know? I could have done it, probably, if I could have just got those dern lug nuts off. Those lug nuts are killer I tell you.
So while I was jacking up the car I got bit by an ant on my hand. Now this wouldn't seem like such a big deal right? I mean, it was even a tiny baby ant! No biggie! Except that I am apparently allergic to ants and my hand swelled up right away. When it rains it pours, internets.
And not one person stopped to ask if I was ok or help me or anything. What the heck, Florida? I guess southern hospitality doesn't reach down into the panhandle.
Soon after all that nonsense my father in law, thankfully, showed up. After that it was simple to change out the tire and head back to the hotel. The next day brought a dip into the emergency fund for new tires and a long drive back to Atlanta with my sick husband. We even decided to stay an extra day in Atlanta for both of us to try and recover (Trey, physically and me, emotionally.)
Now I'm sure that it seems like my title doesn't fit this post at all. "Why I am blessed"? But didn't you see it?
First of all, hello! I didn't get sick! Even after being with Trey constantly over the past few weeks I somehow didn't get sick. In fact, no one else got sick which is especially good for his pregnant sister. Then, if my friends hadn't had that medicine we would have had to spend who knows how much to take Trey to the doctor and get him medicine, all without insurance.
And the tire? Well, it could have blown much farther away from help than it did. If Trey hadn't gotten sick and I hadn't had to have gone to get medicine we might never have known that the tire was bad until we were halfway back to Atlanta with no place to stay and no one to help. If we had been in Disney World by ourselves no one would have been able to come help me because Trey would have been stuck, sick, back at the hotel. If we hadn't saved up an emergency fund we might have had no money for that extra night in the hotel or new tires for the car. Oh and by the way? After that tire blew my steering wheel stopped shaking. Apparently that tire had been wanting to blow for a couple of weeks.
I can't even fathom how much worse it could have been. God took such, SUCH good care of us. I am so in awe of how much He cares about us and of how He works everything out. So am I blessed? Heck ya I am! And all that extra driving gave me some time to think and get my head in the right place.
So now I'm back to the daily grind. And I'm not going to lie and say that it is easy or that I want to be here or that I'm happy about it. I got my head in the right place. I didn't get a lobotomy. But what I will say is this: God is totally going to take care of me. I know He will and He already has. And that is more freeing than I can describe.
This blog is about the very end of my trip. This blog is about stress and sad things. But it will be ok. Read on.
On what was to be our last day in the Disney parks, Trey woke up feeling sick and with a high fever. After texting the people we were supposed to be staying the last two nights of our trip with, to cancel, I found out that she (who is a nurse) had some advice and also some tamiflu. Really, Trey probably should have gone to the doctor. I mean, this was looking like swine flu. SWINE FLU! In DISNEY WORLD. Boo. Did I mention that Trey had left his insurance card at home? Trey left his insurance card at home. I called a walk in clinic (this was Sunday by the way) and found out it was going to cost almost $300 for him to just see the doctor, and that wasn't including medicine.
So I did the only thing I really could do: I called the front desk and booked another night at the hotel and set off to drive an hour and a half away to get medicine from our friends. By myself. In a car that has been acting up. Did I mention that my car has been acting up? My car has been acting up. The clutch is going out and the steering wheel was shaking like it was having seizures.
Ok. So I drive out to my friends house to meet her and get the medicine. After a tour of her (very cute) house, and a chat, I set out to bring healing medicine to my husband, feeling very Balto. And I'm driving and I'm driving and I'm thinking, "almost home! And then this mess will be over!" And suddenly, my car jerks and makes this weird noise like I blew a tire. ( I know what this is like because I have blown a tire before. Not fun.) I was like 20 miles from my exit so I pull over to check all my tires. After deciding that everything looked peachy-keen-jelly-bean, I got back in my car and headed off again. A few more miles down the road my steering wheel really started freaking out. It felt like it was going to shake right off the dashboard. If felt like it was going to shake my arms right off. It felt like I was trying to steer a charging bull. And then my car made this terrifying sound and I knew something was really wrong. So I pulled back over and discovered I had a very flat, very busted front right tire. Bummer. No, bummer doesn't do it. Bigger than bummer. Lucky me, at that point I was only a mile from my exit. So I called my father-in-law to let him know. And then I started to try and change my tire.
Now it's not like I don't know how to change a tire. My dad made me change the tires on my mom's car in the driveway until I could do it myself. And it's a darn good thing he did because I have had to do it 3 times now. By myself. Ya. The first time my parents were in Canada and I was 18 years old on my way to pick up my brother from school. That time, my mom called my ex boyfriend to come and help me and there was NO WAY I was about to let that happen so I fixed that tire myself and had it done by the time he got there. Take that! The second time I had just moved to Alabama and no one would come and help me because everyone was too busy. So I changed that sucker myself in a dark high school parking lot. A cop did show up eventually. His contribution? He shined his search light on the tire to "help me see." For some reason helping the tiny 19 year old girl change her tire in creepy parking lot never occured to him as a way to help. Odd. And the last time was this time. And ya know? I could have done it, probably, if I could have just got those dern lug nuts off. Those lug nuts are killer I tell you.
So while I was jacking up the car I got bit by an ant on my hand. Now this wouldn't seem like such a big deal right? I mean, it was even a tiny baby ant! No biggie! Except that I am apparently allergic to ants and my hand swelled up right away. When it rains it pours, internets.
And not one person stopped to ask if I was ok or help me or anything. What the heck, Florida? I guess southern hospitality doesn't reach down into the panhandle.
Soon after all that nonsense my father in law, thankfully, showed up. After that it was simple to change out the tire and head back to the hotel. The next day brought a dip into the emergency fund for new tires and a long drive back to Atlanta with my sick husband. We even decided to stay an extra day in Atlanta for both of us to try and recover (Trey, physically and me, emotionally.)
Now I'm sure that it seems like my title doesn't fit this post at all. "Why I am blessed"? But didn't you see it?
First of all, hello! I didn't get sick! Even after being with Trey constantly over the past few weeks I somehow didn't get sick. In fact, no one else got sick which is especially good for his pregnant sister. Then, if my friends hadn't had that medicine we would have had to spend who knows how much to take Trey to the doctor and get him medicine, all without insurance.
And the tire? Well, it could have blown much farther away from help than it did. If Trey hadn't gotten sick and I hadn't had to have gone to get medicine we might never have known that the tire was bad until we were halfway back to Atlanta with no place to stay and no one to help. If we had been in Disney World by ourselves no one would have been able to come help me because Trey would have been stuck, sick, back at the hotel. If we hadn't saved up an emergency fund we might have had no money for that extra night in the hotel or new tires for the car. Oh and by the way? After that tire blew my steering wheel stopped shaking. Apparently that tire had been wanting to blow for a couple of weeks.
I can't even fathom how much worse it could have been. God took such, SUCH good care of us. I am so in awe of how much He cares about us and of how He works everything out. So am I blessed? Heck ya I am! And all that extra driving gave me some time to think and get my head in the right place.
So now I'm back to the daily grind. And I'm not going to lie and say that it is easy or that I want to be here or that I'm happy about it. I got my head in the right place. I didn't get a lobotomy. But what I will say is this: God is totally going to take care of me. I know He will and He already has. And that is more freeing than I can describe.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Hiatus
Bloggerworld:
I know I have been absent. I know I have issues. In fact, yesterday I wrote this very depressing and issue-filled post and then decided against posting it.
The facts are these:
1.) I am stressed out, even too stressed out to formulate thoughts coheisive enough to constitute a full blog post. I am actually too stressed out even to check twitter apparently and THAT, my friends, is a big deal in my world.
2.) Seeing as my brain is full right now, the only thoughts that would make it to paper, er...screen, are the ones coming from that which my brain is currently full of. And were I to write those thoughts? That would be bad news for me. I've heard the horror stories and I'm not ready to go there. Maybe someday I will come back and post about them but I'm protecting myself right now. The internet is public people! It's public!
3.) I am going to Disney World in 5 days! I have never been before. The sad thing is, I'm almost too stressed to be excited. I'm hoping the weekend will cure that particular ailment.
So, we come to this: The above things are blocking my writing flow right now and I've decided to take a break. A hiatus. It might be super short, it might be longer. I haven't decided yet. But here goes, I hope this time away will help me refocus and calm down.
So...see ya on the other side. Out.
I know I have been absent. I know I have issues. In fact, yesterday I wrote this very depressing and issue-filled post and then decided against posting it.
The facts are these:
1.) I am stressed out, even too stressed out to formulate thoughts coheisive enough to constitute a full blog post. I am actually too stressed out even to check twitter apparently and THAT, my friends, is a big deal in my world.
2.) Seeing as my brain is full right now, the only thoughts that would make it to paper, er...screen, are the ones coming from that which my brain is currently full of. And were I to write those thoughts? That would be bad news for me. I've heard the horror stories and I'm not ready to go there. Maybe someday I will come back and post about them but I'm protecting myself right now. The internet is public people! It's public!
3.) I am going to Disney World in 5 days! I have never been before. The sad thing is, I'm almost too stressed to be excited. I'm hoping the weekend will cure that particular ailment.
So, we come to this: The above things are blocking my writing flow right now and I've decided to take a break. A hiatus. It might be super short, it might be longer. I haven't decided yet. But here goes, I hope this time away will help me refocus and calm down.
So...see ya on the other side. Out.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
My Day
*RINGRING!*
"Hello? No we don't carry that. I'm sorry. Try here?"
File, where's the file?
*RINGRING!*
"Yes we do. When do you need it? Here's our fax. What's that? I'll be looking. Ok, thank you!"
*click click.*
*scrollscrollscroll*
*typity typity type*
Where's the file? There's the file.
Need more paperwork.
*faxfaxfax*
*RINGRING!*
"Hello?...*click*
Dang telemarketers.
When am I going to find time to paint?
What was I working on again?
File, right that file.
When is lunch?
*tickticktick*
It's only 9:45?!
Insurance, insurance.
*typetypetype*
*scroll scroll*
Paper paper everywhere!
*faxing faxing*
Oh my eyes!
Gotta go to the grocery store after lunch.
I wonder what my husband is doing.
I wonder what it's like outside.
I wonder what it's like to not have a headache.
So tired.
*Filing filing*
*RINGRING!*
Oh not again.
"Uh huh, uh huh. Ok ok. Great. Yes. Ya. Ok. Ok. Uh huh, uh huh. ZZZZzzzz...O what? Yes, right. Uh huh. Got it. Great. Ok. Ok. Bye."
Blah blah blah.
*staple staple*
*faxfaxfax*
*scrollscrollscroll*
*click*
*typey typey type*
Sigh.
What time is it?
7 minutes till lunch!
Lunch!!!
6...
5...
4...
3...
2...
1....................
LUNCH!!!!
*shovelshovelschovel*
*chomp chomp*
*nnnaaaaappppp*
*YAAWWWNNN!!*
*streeeetchhh*
...
*RINGRING!!*
*shuffle shuffle*
"Hello? Uh...hello?"
*filing filing*
*type*type*type*
...
*silent silent*
*tick tock tick tock*
*stamp stamp*
*staple staple*
Insurance, insurance!
*RINGRING!!*
"Hello, yes. Right away...*RINGRING* Can you hold?"
"Hello? No I'm sorry we don't have tha...*RINGRING!* Just a minute."
Where is the file?
*fax fax fax*
*typing typing*
*silence silence*
*RINGRING!*
*RINGRING!*
*RINGRING!*
"Hello? Yes. I'm sorry. What? No. Ok. Yes. Yes. When? Tomorrow? Great. Ok."
What time is it?
2 more hours?!
How long have I been here?
Sigh.
*type type type*
*scroll scroll*
*click click*click* *click*
*tap tap tap*
*scribble scribble*
*faxing faxing*
*RINGRING!*
Seriously?
"Hello? Yes. Ok. No. Uh huh. Uh huh. Uh huh. Great. Ok ok. Ok. Yup. Ok. Great. Ok. Good. Ya. Yes. Nope. Yes. Uh huh. Uh huh. Mmhmm. Mmhmm. Ok. Ok great. Ya. Ok. Ok. Ok. Bye."
Sheesh.
*typing typing*
*silence*
How long have I been here?
2 more hours?!
What?!
I wonder what the traffic will be like on the way home.
I can't wait to work out tomorrow.
Why does my head still hurt?
I think my computer might be frying my brain through my eyes.
Sigh.
*filing filing*
*type type type*
*tick tock tick tock*
sigh
Now where did I put that file?
"Hello? No we don't carry that. I'm sorry. Try here?"
File, where's the file?
*RINGRING!*
"Yes we do. When do you need it? Here's our fax. What's that? I'll be looking. Ok, thank you!"
*click click.*
*scrollscrollscroll*
*typity typity type*
Where's the file? There's the file.
Need more paperwork.
*faxfaxfax*
*RINGRING!*
"Hello?...*click*
Dang telemarketers.
When am I going to find time to paint?
What was I working on again?
File, right that file.
When is lunch?
*tickticktick*
It's only 9:45?!
Insurance, insurance.
*typetypetype*
*scroll scroll*
Paper paper everywhere!
*faxing faxing*
Oh my eyes!
Gotta go to the grocery store after lunch.
I wonder what my husband is doing.
I wonder what it's like outside.
I wonder what it's like to not have a headache.
So tired.
*Filing filing*
*RINGRING!*
Oh not again.
"Uh huh, uh huh. Ok ok. Great. Yes. Ya. Ok. Ok. Uh huh, uh huh. ZZZZzzzz...O what? Yes, right. Uh huh. Got it. Great. Ok. Ok. Bye."
Blah blah blah.
*staple staple*
*faxfaxfax*
*scrollscrollscroll*
*click*
*typey typey type*
Sigh.
What time is it?
7 minutes till lunch!
Lunch!!!
6...
5...
4...
3...
2...
1....................
LUNCH!!!!
*shovelshovelschovel*
*chomp chomp*
*nnnaaaaappppp*
*YAAWWWNNN!!*
*streeeetchhh*
...
*RINGRING!!*
*shuffle shuffle*
"Hello? Uh...hello?"
*filing filing*
*type*type*type*
...
*silent silent*
*tick tock tick tock*
*stamp stamp*
*staple staple*
Insurance, insurance!
*RINGRING!!*
"Hello, yes. Right away...*RINGRING* Can you hold?"
"Hello? No I'm sorry we don't have tha...*RINGRING!* Just a minute."
Where is the file?
*fax fax fax*
*typing typing*
*silence silence*
*RINGRING!*
*RINGRING!*
*RINGRING!*
"Hello? Yes. I'm sorry. What? No. Ok. Yes. Yes. When? Tomorrow? Great. Ok."
What time is it?
2 more hours?!
How long have I been here?
Sigh.
*type type type*
*scroll scroll*
*click click*click* *click*
*tap tap tap*
*scribble scribble*
*faxing faxing*
*RINGRING!*
Seriously?
"Hello? Yes. Ok. No. Uh huh. Uh huh. Uh huh. Great. Ok ok. Ok. Yup. Ok. Great. Ok. Good. Ya. Yes. Nope. Yes. Uh huh. Uh huh. Mmhmm. Mmhmm. Ok. Ok great. Ya. Ok. Ok. Ok. Bye."
Sheesh.
*typing typing*
*silence*
How long have I been here?
2 more hours?!
What?!
I wonder what the traffic will be like on the way home.
I can't wait to work out tomorrow.
Why does my head still hurt?
I think my computer might be frying my brain through my eyes.
Sigh.
*filing filing*
*type type type*
*tick tock tick tock*
sigh
Now where did I put that file?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)