Inauguration

I've never heard such a commotion about a presidential inauguration before. There seems to be an excitement and a hubbub that I am certainly not caught up in and that I really don't understand. The nightly news is citing school children who are planning trips back to Washington DC to see the event. Church leaders, celebrities and blacks all over the nation are making the trek. It's been reported that three million people are expected to converge upon the capital! It's like they are all goin' to Mecca. I picture in my mind a Muslim temple where all of the thousands of worshippers are bowed down in rows with their foreheads touching the floor. It seems like that is the reaction and frame of mind of the masses in this country (and probably the world) about the up-coming inauguration. The words "brainwashed", and "misled" and "desperate", are words that come to mind as I picture these masses. And I wonder how this new president is going to save them all. Instead of excitement over this "historic event" I feel a dread and fear about the future with this new leader in charge.

Emergency Room

I'd had a pain in my abdomen since Sunday and it was now Friday morning. My regular doctor hadn't been able to help me, so after a sleepless night of moaning and pacing the decision was finally made to go to the emergency room.

There weren't very many ahead of me in the waiting area. But I still had 45 minutes to observe; a lady with a broken hand, a sick baby - possibly with pneumonia, an older lady in a wheelchair that couldn't breath (she was given priority and taken right in), and a few other pale and sickly faces.

After giving my medical history, insurance information, being given a bed, a gown, an IV and after filling a cup, I was wheeled down the hall to have a CT Scan taken. I was surprised that I was being taken care of in such a timely manner. But then I was returned to my room to await test results. I laid there shivering as I listened to and caught glimpses of suffering and trauma as they passed my room for the next two hours.

About every 15 minutes someone would arrive by way of the ambulance. I saw and heard the noise of paramedics as they passed by with silent patients strapped to gurneys. Since the nurses station was right across from my room I heard words like: "diverticulitis", "car accident", "two ambulances on the way".

Finally, the doctor came to deliver my test results. The CT Scan showed nothing unusual and the urine test was negative. She had no idea what the problem might be and suggested that I see a specialist. After all of my worrying and suffering, I was shocked to hear this news. I was now being sent home with no answers or help. If the emergency room couldn't help me, who on earth could on a Friday night!?

In shock and still shivering I hurriedly put my warm clothes back on. I had to wait for my release papers and for someone to take out the IV that was never used. Leaning back in the bed I had another 30 minutes to observe and listen. Instead of feeling cheated that some big illness hadn't been discovered, I gradually began to feel gratitude that I was getting out of there. I wouldn't be admitted, or scheduled for surgery or any more torture.

Finally I was given the okay to leave. On my way down the long hall to the big double doors, I walked by rooms with people in hospital gowns and serious faces. I was the lucky one. I was set free! I was walking out of there on my own two feet!

Walking out through the big double doors, I observed that the waiting room was packed. Every seat was filled and all suffering, anxious eyes turned to me as I gratefully exited. As if to reinforce one last time my great fortune, I passed a car that had just arrived delivering a woman who I was sure would be "taken right in". I won't describe the tone of her voice or the stiff angle of her body or the redness of her face. Suffice it to say, my step was quickened as I made my way to the car. The 4 hours of waiting and the dull ache in my abdomen seemed like a small price to pay for getting out of that place under my own power and driving away.

When the lights go out

Last night around 9 PM the electricity went off with a loud jolt. There I sat in the dark in front of the televison holding the remote pointed at a dark screen. Immediately flashing through my mind were all of the things I should have been doing that might have prepared me more for this disaster, other than wasting my time watching TV. Who knew how long we would be without power? It could be several days! Since it was Saturday, I should have done some vacuuming. I should have cleaned the bathroom and I really needed to make bread. Nightly Scripture reading had been postponed until it was now too late. And after a day of shoveling snow and using the snowblower, a shower might have been nice, but it was not possible now. I would not go to bed smelling very sweetly. In these dark moments I also felt gratitude for some of the things I had done that day. I was so glad I had started the dishwasher and now all the dishes in the house were clean. I had just done two loads of laundry, so all the clothes in the house were clean.

I'm wondering if this is how I'll feel at the Second Coming. Will deeds left undone immediately parade through my mind, followed by sorrow and regret that the time is now past for any preparation. Hopefully I can learn from this little experience.

The lights came back on about three hours later and today I have another chance to take care of my duties, to make preparations, to clear my conscience so that when the lights go out next time, hopefully I'll be ready.

Thanksgiving

As usual, my eyes were bigger than my stomach on Thanksgiving Day. Roger and I were invited to my sister, Gayla's, house for dinner where a veritable feast was placed before us. The turkey was done to perfection, the yams were candied and sweet, the gravy was out of this world, and it was all surrounded, topped and mingled with stuffing, cranberries, salads of every kind, home-made rolls and pies of every description. I ate slowly, savoring every bite and hoping to avoid my usual heartburn. I did well. My stomach was a little bit tight and uncomfortable but I was okay.

And then along came little Sydney. It started with bouncing her on my knees. It progressed to the game where I held her and pretended to drop her, but only her upper half - I held on firmly to her legs. Before I knew what happened we were on the hard-wood floor where she had me pinned. Everytime I tried to get up she would run for me and force me down again. Laying down flat is the worst thing you can do for potential heart-burn, right after eating a big dinner. Thankfully, Sydney was eventually distracted and I was able to get up from the floor. By this time the heartburn was taking a firm hold, I was exhausted, and I was even feeling a little dizzy. It was all so fun, but I knew I needed to get home to my Zantac, heating pad and recliner.

Sydney looks so cute and innocent, but watch out...she'll work you over.

Sleep walker

Apparently I'm a sleepwalker from way back. One time when I was about five years old I woke up in the middle of the night standing up in bed. My three sisters, who shared the same room, had turned on the light and were staring at me. They said I'd been jumping on my bed as well as leaping from one bed to the other.

Another time I got up in the morning, looked in the mirror only to discover that my whole face was covered with red lipstick and eyebrow pencil. I could never get anyone to admit to doing it, so I must conclude that I did it myself.

Years later I had a dream in which I remembered seeing all of my cut-offs and shorts in the trunk of my car. What an odd thing to dream, I thought. Throughout that summer I noticed that my shorts and cut-offs where nowhere to be found. For some reason shortly after that I had an occasion to open the trunk of my car and was astounded as I gazed upon all of my cut-offs and shorts neatly laid out, just like in my dream.

Within the last year or two I've gotten up in the morning to discover objects in unusual places; like the container of dry hot chocolate mix in the microwave - not once, but twice! And sometimes after a night's sleep I find myself with new cuts, scrapes and bruises. (my husband claims he didn't do it) Quite often in the mornings I feel very unrested and have trouble staying awake during the day.


For all the times that evidence has been found of my sleep-walking I wonder how many times I've walked at night when no evidence was found. I can only hope that I don't leave the house, drive anywhere, or use my shotgun.

Raccoons!

A few weeks ago I heard some noises out in the garage so I went to look. When I opened the door I discovered that the whole garage was swarming with raccoons! They were crawling everywhere and devouring the cat food. I tried to scare them a way by shouting and clapping my hands but they were extremely bold and wouldn't leave. Some of them tried to hide under the car until I shooed them out with the snow shovel. We just can't have raccoons in the garage. We have to protect our home and our kitties. Raccoons carry sicknesses and they are vicious. So I went and got my shot gun and the bullet I'd been saving for it. I walked outside the garage and there up in the tree were two of the varmints staring at me. I didn't even have to aim (it's a sawed-off shot gun) I just leveled it waist high and pulled the trigger. I buried them the next morning. Then a couple of weeks later I went out to the garage and there was the kitty food bag laying on the rug with big holes chewed in it. By this time I'd been to the store and bought more bullets, so again, I ran and got the gun and several bullets. It was dark outside so I grabbed the flash light too. I thought I heard something running through the weeds behind the shed, so I went after it. The flashlight was pretty wimpy and it was hard to see anything so I headed back to the house. As I neared the garage I heard pieces of tree bark and branches falling from the big tree. I looked up and there was another raccoon. After he dropped, I heard more noises coming from higher up in the tree. Guess what, another raccoon! I buried them both the next morning.

Once in a while I borrow the neighbors raccoon trap and I've caught several masked bandits that way. You'll be happy to know that I don't shoot the ones I trap, I just take them for a long ride, let them go and hope they never come back!

It's hard to be perfect

On a drive to town a few weeks ago to take Roger to dialysis, we were listening to Scriptures on Cd's, and my mind wandered a little and I began thinking about what it would take to be perfect. I wondered if I could be perfect for a day or even an hour. So right then and there, on the road, I decided to try. And I did pretty well for about five minutes before the trouble started. We were running a little bit late and needed to drive at a reasonable speed to get Roger to his appointment on time, but then we came up behind a slow-moving red convertible sports car. We followed the car patiently for several miles on the narrow, winding, mountainous road until we came to a straight-away, where passing was allowed. As we began to pass the man driving the red sports car turned in his seat and stared at us. I was surprised at the mean look he gave us as we passed him. And I was even more surprised to see his hand raised above the windshield (remember, it was a convertible) and a certain finger raised. Looking in my rear-view mirror, I could see that hand still raised long after we had passed him. Before long my surprise turned to anger. What right did he have to take such offense at being passed! The thought entered my head that I should stop, let him catch up to us and let him have it! I could feel the adrenalin taking over, hands shaking, face red and hot...I was mad and wanted to take revenge. All my thoughts about being perfect had gone out of the window. But being the chicken that I am, I kept driving and eventually cooled off, realizing that I couldn't even go five minutes without messing up.