Tale of Two Cities Part Whatever

Years ago, around Christmas, I started to read a favorite of Charles Dickens: A Tale of Two Cities.
I gave my interpretation of Madame DeFarge. And then wondered why Lucy was written, purposely in my mind, so blandly.

 

Don't Leave! Sit... Stay.... It will be brief!

Well, the answer was not apparent. My finger couldn't find it. Nor the cogs in my brain align until I finished some things, I guess. Or God did.

This morning a cog clicked into place.

 It is a small answer.

While moving a SnoGlobe of the Nativity. I turned it upside down and twisted it's music box only once. It played slowly....'Hark, The Herald Angels Sing..... tra la la.... and wound down on

Mercy Mild

 

"Mercy Mild?" I said outloud and to no one present. Why is it MILD?

Like a hot sauce can come in Mild. But it seems I require Mercy Extra Hot.

Then my finger found what it was looking for in the vaults of my brain:

 

DeFarge  seems to be a show stopper. While Lucy/Christ actually come from out of no where

and quietly grab and hold your attention like the lawyer held the young woman's in the cart ride down the streets toward......

 

Read the Book!!

 

Like the Atonement, which all books and thoughts are extracted, evolve over one's soul's life.

Which can be very, very old. And will become even older.

 

Now how long until the cog goes out and has to fiind an answer?

Better not be an eternity.

 

Festive and Fun to Come.

 

Christmas Cards

 

Let it Snow!

 

Idaho got dumped on and I can hear my son outside taking care of the Mom and Me shoveling business. Minus Me.

Yay!

 

(I am now simply CEO.)

 

And he isn't shoveling, Padre got out the snowblower. Kids have it so easy these days. 

 

Okay, back to my original thought for a post!

Due to time and technology we do not do Christmas cards like we used to.

 

Most of my correspondence is in the form of 'letters', typed to make it 'easier' on my arthritis! So, my friends get more then they wanted,  instead of signed cards they get stories and updates! And becaue I don't do my Christmas Cards in one sitting- they trickle into loved ones' mailboxes.

And keep trickling, like a broken faucet, into the coming months to the point that my letters look like just that- a letter. When it was originally a Christmas Card!

 

 

 

Actually, all kidding aside. Back in the day I can recall my grandparent's door. It held the original

 

HUGE BELLS

 

 

that they would put on the horses before hitching it to the sleigh, used during winter months to get to destinations. Can you imagine hearing these bells ring as you sat in your cold, fire heated home, wearing your thread bare stockings? The sound of a visitor! Ya-hoo!!

 

Now imagine this whenever the door is shut at your grandparents or loved one's home. The smell of fresh monkey bread, lathered in butter, sitting amidst a bunch of other goodies on the small round table of my Grandma's is aching my heart right now.

 

 

 

The door to their home would have numerous cards, all hung at an angle covering it that the wood could barely be seen and the windows were covered so you couldn't see who was coming to visit. The cards were thick, rich shimmery cards that sparkled or begged to be looked at from afar.

She now has a magnet board that holds the updated picture cards that are sent.

 

Times change....

 

So this whole card correspondence thing  had me thinking all of this the other day when

 

TWO

 

cards from two loved ones showed up and they were of the OLD FASHIONED variety; handwritten. 

 

 

 

Ouch. Once again two older ladies were upstaging me on the physical arena.

 

 

There is nothing like seeing a loved one's handwriting.

 

 Especially a Grandmother's.

 

Sorry, Nothing. (I am so glad that most grandmas are not online.- for the most part) 

 

 

 

Both of the women who wrote me had tried their very best not to shake- I could "see" the careful effort they were putting into the cursive they penned. And I could tell that each had lovely handwriting back in the day.

 

 

And now, their imperfection was perfection. Tears came by what they wrote in a few sentences, words not minced but to the point.

 

They had written me the old fashioned way.

Meaning: They really wrote; no computer, just pen and paper.

I could see that person in each swirl of the pen.

 

I have a lot of friend who have held on to tradition but to see the older ones hold onto them...

 

 

My Grandmother's was the most difficult, emotionally, to read.

She and I have been pen pals for some time now. I have taken efforts to make the letter interesting to look at so that it could be looked at time and again if desired.

My Grandma kept every letter sent to her, I believe. All of my father's letters sent to her from Vietnam.

 

 

 

The most difficult ones to read were ones that had been opened and re-opened so much that the crease in the thin paper was beginning to fade the pen. I knew a scared mother read those. That a stoic father who worked hard at his job would sit up to the table and read it.

Siblings would listen to or read the letters. Most of them at least.

 

Norman Rockwell has made me think this was like one of his paintings.

 

So Grandma and I wrote back and forth. Well, I mainly wrote. And told her NOT to.

Because I didn't want her to stress out.

After one such admonition she said she may surprise me.

 

 

 

And she did!

 

I hadn't seen her in a long time due to illness. So a bit ago I got to spend time with her one night and

then one afternoon. I got to talk on the phone with her a few times.

 

Her card is only a few lines but they are better than any Hallmark words can pen!

 

Like her, I keep all my letters. It does take up space. But it is history to me.

 

Her once beautiful, perfect handwriting is diminished. Recognizable. But written by a tired hand.

A heart after one sentence reduced me to tears!

 

 

 

Again, time goes so quickly. And things change quickly! As wonderful as it is that she is HOME for Christmas- well. You wish a nurse was in her back pocket and a Dr. on the sofa.

 

Her life and my dear friend's, the ones from the old fashioned time period of runner sleds, Filson wool hats on boys playing in the snow, and home made fudge that can't be duplicated even though you have the recipe, turn my thoughts to why I need to be so grateful

for Christmas.

 

 

The symbolism of Christ in a lot of the traditions.

*********

 

Well, this post is like my letters... it drags on and is in need of an envelope, stamp, and placed in the mailbox for the new mailman who is quite opposite of what the old one was like; he is young and in shape and doesn't wear an old confederate flag bandana around his face during the winter.

Retired mailman, Ralph is like a Rockwell painting in

different sort of way.

 

 

 I need to also post my picks for the year.

 

 

 

BBQ Christmas

 Sometimes I think my father and I are the polar opposites that balance out our universe. Or universes.

 

Remember a few post back when I said: "Look Down!" Because you would see the lights in the window downstairs. Painstakingly I taped them to the marbled glass and as J. played basketball outside (side note: who does that? plays basketball in the winter outside in your drive way? when it is getting dark?)

 

Anyway, J. said the glow of lights could be seen and it looked super sweet, Super sweet.

Yay, me! Yay my sad attempts this year to put up some semblance of holiday downstairs because I was afraid upstairs would not get put up in time.

 

Well, Padre made it so you can't see the soft, hazy lights from the cubed windows. How  you are asking? Because he doesn't like his BBQ out in the elements, he put moved it out front.

 

Under the safety of the roof hanging over the porch and walk way.

 

Tonight we had an event to attend and I walked outside passed the BBQ-er wondering, who does that? yeh, we can make some meals easier if we want to dare he low temps to have a nice steak But this is just tacky.

 

Thankfully our front yard is hard to see due to people visiting with their cars parked out front along the street.

 

The other funny thing he did to offset me was after I'd cleared out a bunch of boxes by wrapping presents for grandkids. The hallway was cleared! No more Amazon boxes in the way, but stowed underneath the tree for the Parents to take to the Grandkids.

 

Yay me, again!

 

Then one day I came home and there is this box in the exact place I'd cleared.

Not an Amazon box. But a box of toilet paper. Which can't find a home until after Christmas

because other boxes are where the T.P. ones should go.

 

So we use night lights to navigate our decked out halls.

 

The event that took me passed the BBQer was J's

 

Christmas Choir Concert.

It was amazing how well the kids had performed. The elementary was packed!

 

J's teacher lead it and I have to give him credit for gathering the kids who wanted to take part and teach them. Wow.

 

Another wow! I was there! Sitting next to his first grade teacher, I strained to stare at him from the way back. We were right by the camera recording the event. Padre closest to it. I had to give him the heads up not to even whisper. Because we were right there..

 

Padre was quiet the whole time and clapped at the appropriate times. Mom recorded on her phone and we had a memorable moment. As we walked to our car I noticed the full moon and had to stop and be in the moment.

 

More in the moment then other times. Holding onto J. we made it over the ice and snow to our car.

That starts and is warm and is..... just right.

 

Do you ever feel those moments when things are as they should be. You can't change the facts.

Like certain situations but you do your best and somehow life sometimes let's you hit the pause button and reflect.

 

It feels like a pair of shoes or slippers that fit, just right. Finding the perfect pair of pants.

Or getting the right size to fit what size you are at the moment.

 

Like pulling a pie out of the oven and the crust was made the same way you had a million times before but this time it comes out of the oven so perfectly. Those are the moments that come back to me.

 

Today I went to the website that I was glad that taught me how to put my make-up on and went to a link that had some cute jewelry. I clicked on 'what is trending' to see what was trending that wouldn't  be trended here, in Idaho, or maybe just by me.

 

Some of the pieces looked a lot like the baubles my Aunt had. She was That Aunt. Never married.

Was sickly. A woman who I have tried not to think about a ton because I didn't want to admit I was more and more like her.

 

Don't you hate that? Realizing you are what you were afraid to be? So I am That Aunt to J's cousins.

 

However, this led me to look through her tacky baubles by the light of the Christmas tree.

I had to wonder if she was assigned to me after she died knowing what I was going through with my health problems, and so on and so forth.

 

And trying to help me see what is important. So that more and more of those "Right" moments could happen. Okay. That's my off the hook post for the day.....

 

I'd started doing a post of my 2013 best picks. And this had to schooch it to the back burner for some reason. So tacky is part of the decorations this year and beyond. Reaching even the plastic and fake necklaces of an aunt who spent her life feeling like the odd one out.

 

okay, the Sandman has finally struck. I will add pictures later. I know. It sounds easy. Just not for me.

The Savior Sleeps In??

I wish you could see it!

 

All of the Christmas decorations are out! And I finally felt an ambiance and thrill of the season.
I did stub my toe on a box the other day that had leather belt holding sleigh bells on it and the ringing sent a chill up my spine.

It is Christmas time!



*There is no stick tree this year. However, I have ONE branch that I want spray painted white to go with my little woodland theme in the basement. A single red bulb is hanging from it. Pics. Soon. I think. *
 

Meaning: the upstairs tree and mom's décor is all out. I tried to encourage J. to be satisfied with the BASEMENT full on Christmas- but no.

My one branch, in the milk bottle full of white lights has this picture hanging behind it.

Drawn by my talented cousin, John Hart.
 

Alas, he turned to prayer like little Tommy in It's a Wonderful Life, and prayed at dinner that we could be able to set up Christmas.





Little Tommy is the youngest cute nugget up there.

 

 

 

While he said this I was thinking of all the decorations already out, and Amazon boxes, that had contained them, needing to be put away, and, with my eyes closed, it made me wonder why on earth he would send this prayer out.  I prayed that he would put the amazon boxes back up on the shelves so we didn't have a Concussion session or anything. And that his wish would come true.



Like children's prayers, it got answered and Mom's stuff went up.








And mom magically got a second wind after a long day. And she got into her maiden name mood. Meaning she turned into the child like self or maybe it's the grandma-self and she started laughing like she laughs when she is with her siblings. Which is a ringing laugh. That sounds all the same.

Which makes me wonder if I laugh like my siblings. I don't think so... but do we?
No.

Back to her and her laugh. It is so cute. And she can decorate upstairs so cute. And Jaden was right, despite our winter wonderland downstairs, upstairs completes Christmas.

I mean this is what is topping our ginger bread, doily snowflake, standing grizzly bear, and pine coned tree:

 

 

 

Yes, it was on the coat rack last year but this year it looks super cute affixed the top of the winter wonder.

 

The upstairs tree looks more and more like the Swiss Alps with it's old fashioned, painted  ornaments. A friend passed some time ago and I received some decorations belonging to the individual, mixed with our others from a dear friend, they look like Santa hand painted them and put them in the middle of the Sound of Music!I felt her presence as I watched Christmas come together in awe! Jaden's thrill was tangible.

Why had it not been so magical with just downstairs?? Was it Joel Sanda's houses that were atop the hearth?

(many of my pics show the shake I get in my hands when taking a soft picture that I want glow to come off and I can't hold it long enough.... yet there is something about the fuzzy that sorta grows on me. I hope you don't mind get unfocused filmage. I like it. )

We used less this year and it looks more simplified upstairs. So some went downstairs.
And Jaden put his Joel Sanda Santa and sleigh amongst the creamy elk and bear ornaments guarding the manger scene. That is by the stick and white lights. It goes with the white, diamond dust candle house that is off to the side.

Santa's sleigh rides over the manger scene. Believe me, it looks so cute. A large cylinder of pine cones and a winter Angel with a red knitted snow cap over look the manger scene.

All of this meant more boxes being pulled down and unraveling treasures forgotten about that we own! And cards from past Christmases saved.

Aunt Annette, Your is close by so I see it. I don't know how you find the cutest cards...
So of course the sound of:

"Oh!" 
is made over and over.

 

This got a texting of messages back and forth between Padre and I. How it looked, that it did brighten things up and bring cheer. He said something to the effect that he wondered if seeing the joy in the kids on Christmas day was how He felt about us on Christmas morning.

 

Somehow, Mom, who was adjusting a star on the top to see if it worked better than the angel, jumped into the conversation, misunderstanding what had been said.

 

MOM:, standing on a small step stool like the Dad in A Christmas Story fixing the star atop the tree, leeeeaaaannin in:

"How did he know that? He always slept in Christmas morning!"

 

 

ME: No, Mom. Padre is talking about Christ.

We laugh.
 

Her:: "Oh, yes. He's awake."

 

 

In Padre's defense we did wake up at 3 and 4 am. And pulled them from the three minutes of sleep
 

they had, and into the living room with all its magic. Good thing Santa left Coca Colas for those weary eyed Padre.

 

 

The Power Outage-Prepared for the COLD

(the swing outside my grandparents. Taken by my cousin. Can anyone say: Frigid?)

 

So I told you about how cold it got last week and that it cut off the electricity

everywhere but from the core of the city, Right?



It meant my sister had to build a fire. I was pretty impressed. Except I think they freeze out there all the time and build the fire in addition to the heater, and now it was worse.

 

Well, Padre sent an email about being prepared and I thought I'd read it while I worked through some of the night.

(Brrr)

Not a high "voltage" of enthusiasm on my part pulled from an email I've read.

The writer was, as assumed really excited because when you are prepared and something this big happens and you get to see if it all works.....

 

Like waiting to turn on all the Christmas lights to see if one is out and it ruins a whole string or all of it like in the "olden days" 

 

Most informative email I've read.

 

Like the person was a professor of preparedness and takes you through the whole disasters minute by minute; step by step.

 

Yes, I was familiar with having food storage. Aware of 3 day preparedness back packs and stuff.

I know how to build a small stove with an Altoids box.

And we have Padre, so I thought I was prepared.

 

Nope.

(chilly) 

 

I learned you should not use those plastic pouring spouts from gas cans cause they break off. duh.

But ya gotta go through trial and error.

 

Answer to that problem: Big funnels.

 

Okay. Next I learned to fill the bathtubs with water for the pressure when flushing the toilets.

Who knew?

 

Old Man, Padre did. He even knew that the generator the man spoke about was too small.

 

But the man pointed out that if we Eastern Idahoans were in a similar situation for three weeks- we'd change our focus of:

 

"Oh, I'll just run some errands in town till it turns on in 8 hours."

 

I even chuckled at the fact that they had games for an event like this. But you know, being snowed in with a power outage could bring on some cabin fever.

 

But we own Monopoly and that would surely last at least a month for just one game.

Even now I feel guilty that during that time I had some of the vents shut because it gets ways to hot in some of the rooms.

Bright festiveness from prior years. I can't believe I made those pom poms for several gifts.

I need minions now if I want to pull this off.

 

She's Home for Christmas!!!

The prettiest, no really, the prettiest Grandmother at EIRMC, and anywhere, got to come home. I am not being biased about the ice blue-eyed grandmother I have. I have never seen such a pretty grandmother. And her grey hair is the kind that people are actually trying to color their hair these days. ? Not even her mother was this pretty- she was pretty and had snow white hair, but she made up for the model level of beauty of grand motherhood by hitting her 100's and the fact, it doesn't matter.

So now that I have made this great big whoop about how pretty she is--- she is home!

Early by even our expectations! You should have seen the smile on my Grandpa's face the other day when I handed him a home made card and sent him off to the hospital to look after his sweetheart. A job he takes seriously even by most people's standards.

The same Grandpa whose shadow I shared with you the other day on a very early morning heading out into the cold, to work a job that put him on ROADS. I don't like the word Road and "bad" put in the same sentence.  Or Ice. Or blizzard.

Sigh.

Either way, he drove all his roads and it made for a small cottage of a house that we try to stuff over a hundred people into because we love them so much, on a regular basis.

Another thing I am hating is flu. And "oh, that is going around." statements. More on that later.

So my Grandpa, who was steadier than most in the job arena, taking on extra shifts, and never being sick and stuff- provided for 7 kids. And a truckload of grandkids, great grandkids, etc.

He is the Grandfather who lost his father at a young age and delivered three paper routes. Which made paper routing a tradition in the family. And then helped his mother buy furniture for her house when he was 12. Who does that? Then helped get a brother of his on a mission.

Yeh, I know I can't compare and it is hard to have that standard. Which is why we will switch to one we can better compare ourselves to in a second.

My point is that they have this cute little house, more like a cottage now that it is Christmas!. And in it is a tall, Grandfather clock that ticks to the tune of the stories and lives lived there and branch off from there. (Go to Susan Branch's blog and find her sweet little clock that says: 'An old clock that ticks, never gets old.' It reminds me of them. And that clock. And that house. And has a cute way of saying- so glad they are still tickin'.And they stayed together. That is what has kept us all together.

During my grandmother's stay at the hospital, J brought down the pictures of his aunts and uncles on that side and our grandparents to eye level, by the decorations of the tree, because I think we were all under the impression that she was not going to last.

And, if you can believe, her flowers lasted up to a month ago. The little cove they are tucked in, their house facing east must have kept them living. So the hanging baskets by her kitchen window exploded with color when you went to the sink. When  you left, passing her rose garden, other flowers were still there, alive! Showing brilliant color.

I thought it was a some sort of sign that this must be the ushering of a sweet Grandma to heaven.

And I was wrong! Which I should have thought about it a bit longer cause her own mother went to 103.

But there is a reason for it- I think and it has to do with all these people under them that LOVE them that keep them trucking on.

Okay- so there is that word: Trucking.



It scares wives, girlfriends, and kids 'round the world to think about icy roads and loved ones on it. -That is why we have country music I imagine; the lonesome croon of music that lulls scared hearts while loved ones are on the roads.

Especially when one of those loved ones says: "Rhis is like a convoy," referring to the bad roads and he's been to Vietnam. What does he want us to do with that sort of information?

But honesty is a good policy.

Which brings me back to roads. And I don't like to have to be praying the prayer:

 "Bless, so and so on the roads." Which is a regular when you live here in Idaho whether you are on it going through the neighborhood, or if you are a trucker and are dealing with this blizzard. And then you add a nation going through tough times and the prayers going out to all of them....

Well, I guess I am pretty sensitive at times. Annndd a worrier; like blue eyes up above.

Idaho is still pretty cold. Last night when the one guy, In the Night Before Christmas, goes to bed in his cap, instead of a kerchief, I was in , my festive and warm red scarf. Which kept me warm.

I am not totallyyy to the festive part yet. The part that you have to find each year and it becomes Christmas once you reached that feeling.

I felt hints when I watched a video on my cousin, Steven, done by BYU-I. That actually really brought the feeling. And, of course my grandmother. But let's get to the part where I am

After J. finished shoveling the sidewalk, he gave me the best compliment: "Mom, the lights you put in the basement windows look really good from the sidewalk."

So when  you pass our house- look down! And that brings us to decorating this year.

Lots of stuff is still in boxes.

Babe, It is Cold Outside

 

 

 

 

 

Idaho is bringing it. Cold, freezing, breath smokin' kinda cold.

It was so cold, the electricity was out from here to the edge of J's school. (Grinch  laugh insert here.)

My sister, out in the twigs called early in the morning to let us know the electricity was out. We turned on the lights to hear how she cowgirlished up and mad a fire for her little buck a roos.

One of which I wonder is on the naughty list this year, but is so cute he gets re-routed to the super cute list.

 

 

Actually, two nephews fall into the naughty category and then get re-routed.  

When it's this cold I get feeling bad for kids at bus stops. Memories of those days bring a chill to my spine. It makes me think of moon boots crunching through snow and cars heating up for people waiting inside before making the leap of going to work.

 

It reminds me of my Dad driving through harsh weather and the perils of him reaching home.

It reminds me of my Grandpa, who would get up reeeeeaaaallly early to drive buses for the Nuclear Reactor Site out on the desert so many years ago.

 

 

 

Once I got up that early on a night of a sleep over and huddled by the heating vent in the kitchen while the smell of coffee permeated the room. I watched the tall shadow  from the outside light of a in an unlit kitchen drink his cup and then head out into the cold.

 

That's what Idahoan's do- head out into the cold and get jobs done.

 

 

Except me.

 

 

 

But my bones are cold. And this disease is one that feels cold and RA makes ya kinda get into a position that a stone statue would make- my thoughts are on my grandpa today.

 

He had a spring in his step last night after dragging his feet to the sound of days getting older.

 

 He is finishing off his breakfast (no more coffee these days)and coming over to see me and pick up a card to take to his sweetheart. It's a cute card. And I have to get it to her.

 

Last night I talked with my grandpa for the first time in a long time. We've seen each other but haven't talked talked. But last night he had a spring in his step. His sweetie is doing well.

She is making good strides, working hard on her physical therapy, and getting hydrated up.\And we talked for a long while. I love you (s) were said and have been said a lot more lately.
Kisses have been handed out more lately.  

 Her insides are healing. Yay! And it could be a week when she comes home! Earlier he had looked like a sad puppy dog. And I was sad for him. I did not want my grandmother to leave just yet.

It could not be so! And he walked around with a very somber look.

 

 

 

It is not often that couples stay together. And when you see it.... well, it melts your heart and reminds you of the good ol days. The days when men went to WWII days, or something. The days when you drank Coca Cola From a glass bottle.

 

 

 

When families stay together, those are good glass bottle days.

 

This last pic makes me think of Christmas. ooowwaah I hope he comes this year!

 

 

'

Quality, and Quality of Life



 

Padre taught me about the quality of things. If we were going to own something, it might not be much, but it was quality. The way it was made, the way he made sure we took care of it. He put an emphasis on quality.

 

Which you can see in the way he takes care of his things. He really makes sure to clean it, polish it, fix it when broken, keep it in a safe place,.

 He probably did not expect seven children to come along and make it harder for him to keep up his good track record!

 

Lately the word has been thrown around when we talk about how things used to be made.

Probably because it is Christmas time and we are looking at things and they are, well, in general, chintzy.

And this is something he and most of us bemoan. Quality made items down the drain to chintzy products that we have no other choice but to accept. 

 

Padre's "Quality Policy" even refers to how he performs his job and expects you to do yours.

He was in the military and I think that has a HUGE reason for his expectations and performance.
And is my disclaimer for when I am sub par.

Like if the something is done correctly I can just say:"But Dad, I wasn't in the military!"

 

The real reason I have thrown the phrase around lately has been when taking into consideration certain medications and the all encompassing question:

Does it Improve Your Quality of Life?

 

Jaden heard a snip of conversation as he poured some cereal into a bowl and poured milk over it and upon returning it to the fridge he said: (referring to the book of Roald Dahl's)

 

" Kinda like Matilda's Dad selling poor "quality" cars at unfair prices?"

 

Exactly.

 I thought to myself sitting up to the kitchen table.

But instead of a used car salesman, with slicked back hair and glue that he uses to fix fenders, I want that dream team of doctors who can work together to fix me.

 

So far I have some good ones. It just perplexes me how none of them can come together and work on the project as a whole. I know that each is extremely busy and they have their own speciality for a reason.

 

But I wish, for the first time and only time, for a middle man that puts it all together like the car salesman my friend's husband is at Hardman Car Co.

 

No, this is not an ad for his dealership. It is just who he is and who I wish more people, including myself were more like; straight arrow quality.

 

Back to the subject of "Quality of Life "

my grandmother is in the hospital and her treatment is based on a few factors that all accumulate to her quality of life.


 

 

In the same manner, I have had to make decisions in the same manner. Obviously we have some major differences. But I made some twenty years ago with the doctors telling me that it could affect the "quality of my life". 

 

Could the way my bones feel right now be a result of that choice made so long ago?

 

Yup.

 

And P.S. who is missing my posting of pictures? Sorry. I need to get on that. But I have been unwell.

And that goes to the back burner.

Due to the choice of meds I have spent a good two years in the toxicity of prednisone. And it has done a number on me.

 

I miss me.

 

 

The me before prednisone came in to save the day but changed everything. Made me Grinchish. The prednisone that is causing my fibula and feet to feel like they are going to crack when I stand up. .

 

And it isn't just due to weight gain. They hurt like this when
 I was a runner. I would have to back off and let stress fractures or those pesty pains, heal.

 

Which leads me to a good article that I've gotten into about how bone re-generate.  It is really hopeful and our bodies are amazing.

 

One last rant thought. Cause I am feeling like the Grinch on this one. Because I look like he does.

J. mentioned the word: "Diet".

 

We haven't worried about weight with him since Running Back days when he was in fear of any calorie taking away his chance at being his best on the field and being that RB.
 

 

Now, due to life style, being bed ridden at times. He has taken on some of my bad habits.

No one who makes the 'yo Mama' jokes knows what prednisone even is.

That it can redistribute weight to make you look a lot like the Grinch.

 

And it can cause Cushings Syndrome.

(feel free to google it)

 

I know what it takes to endure something hard. No, I do not have a Ragnar sticker on my SUV.

But I have endured a lot and it has led to a lot. And there aren't any stickers or shirts that I can wear proudly for it.


(It feels like Max's job here.)

So I have to stop at evaluate what it is I am doing, taking or whatever and ask myself if it is improving the quality of my life.

I know I myself can work on some things only to a certain extent. And then the rest is God's will.
The way which a body just goes on its course.

I just hope, that I am the kind of person that has the qualities of someone who has tried to improve upon.
That it will eventually not matter to me that I look different and may never look the same again.
That those qualities will fall to the wayside and I will not look for them in others or be distressed that they aren't in me. But that I can be counted on.

And you that you won't find me selling cars like Matilda's Dad with glued on bumpers.