Google+ Followers

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

No Comparison

One of my favorite things to do is to attend social painting classes. I love to grab a bunch of girls and get creative. This weekend I got creative with my daughter. I woke up Sunday feeling pretty lousy. Before the class started, I seriously thought of asking for a rain check so I could go home and go to bed. But when the instructor started instructing, I got in the zone. I intentionally didn't look at my daughter's painting as we progressed. She paints with an amazingly steady hand and she blends her painting with incredible focus. Me.... Not so much. Midway through the class I thought to myself.... "It's going to look horrible"  As we were wrapping up the session, I glanced over at my daughter's painting. Yep, it was perfect as usual, but even though mine was different, it wasn't horrible, in fact I thought it looked pretty great. The coolest part of a social painting class is when everyone has finished and you get to see everyone's painting. Although they are all the same subject matter.... Each painting is uniquely different. Some decide to paint in totally different colors from what the instructor suggest. Some people add or change some aspect of their painting. Then you have people like myself. I follow the instructions, stroke by stroke, it goes against my nature not to. After class I thought about comparisons. It's so easy to glance at someone's life and think you have failed by comparison, when in reality you haven't. Life would be boring if we were all alike. Our differences are what make us interesting, and as someone once said, "Boring lives don't make for interesting stories". Remember that the next time you have the urge to compare yourself to someone else....

Friday, July 15, 2016

Forever Impression

An angel got her wings this week.  My aunt passed quietly in her sleep and she will be greatly missed. She proved that it isn't always the big things in life that leave a lasting mark, but also the tiniest of gestures that leave a forever impression. This is one of the fondest memories.
I was born, raised, and will die a priss-pot.... That's just how it is. My mom and dad both came from large families with 8 siblings each. We frequently spent time with mom's family, but we rarely spent time with dad's family. Why? I think it was because my mom was uncomfortable with broadening her borders. Although those who knew her probably didn't realize it, she was held captive by social anxiety and a plethora of insecurities.  When we did visit dad's family, she insisted on dressing me up in frilly dresses, socks and black patent shoes. She didn't dress me up (as much) for her family, but with dad's, it was full throttle bells and whistles. One summer she took a trip with one of her sisters. After dropping her off, we went to dad's brother's house for a fish fry. We got there early in the day and everyone seemed happy to have us come and actually be able to stay for more than a few minutes. My cousin wanted me to go outside to play, but of course I wasn't dressed for outdoor activity. I remember my aunt Doris saying.... "I bet we could find you some clothes so you can go outside to play" Sure enough she found some jeans, a shirt and some shoes that were made for playing. The rest of the day was spent outside in the good ole Oklahoma heat. My cousin introduced me to the art of crawdad fishing (or catching). For someone who was used to playing house and dress up.... Crawdad fishing was way outside my expertise and I LOVED IT!! When the time came for us to clean up for the fish fry, I remember walking through the kitchen and hesitantly asking aunt Doris..... "Are people going to be hugging me and stuff tonight?" She put the towel she was holding down beside the sink and bent down beside me..... "Not if you don't want them to honey." I told her I didn't mind the hugging, but if there was going to be hugging I should probably change clothes. I knew mom wouldn't be happy if the whole family saw me in my rough and tumble state of disarray.
This morning when I visiting dad for coffee, we talked about that day and how much fun I had. He said that aunt Doris had told him how much she enjoyed watching me have fun and get dirty. Hands down that was one of the best days of my life. Aunt Doris made me feel so comfortable and accepted. She made it feel natural to walk outside the boundaries of what was normal for me. The thing I remember most, was just a kind, gentle spirit which left a forever impression on my heart. My sweet aunt passed in her sleep to join her husband, siblings, and her children that passed before her. I have no doubt that she feels right at home which is fitting because that is how she made others feel.

Friday, July 1, 2016

Urine Funny

Everyone copes with life's mishaps and hurdles in different ways. My coping mechanism is humor.... Sarcastic-ish humor, but not in a mean way... In a humorous way.... Well humorous to me and select others who appreciate a good pun or light hearted fun. My son told me once that God would rather me be righteous than funny, which I thought was funny since God created me and my sense of humor. I'm tempted to say I can't help myself, but that wouldn't be owning my humor. I guess if I tried really hard and had some duct tape and bailing wire handy at all times, I might be a little more successful in keeping my sense of humor in check at inappropriate times. The thing about it is, it happens so fast.... It's like the cartoon bubble is just forming over my head encapsulating the words that are already out there and I can't (hard as I might try) take them back.... So, I just own it. The latest example is as follows....

Our Alaskan vacation ended with my husband spending the last leg of the cruise running a dangerously high fever. That's it, nothing but this crazy fever and all the aches and pains that go with it. We still had 3 days left, so I meandered around the ship by myself spending a great deal of time in the piano bar, huddled with my sketch pad and pens. When we got home he continued to feel horrible and the second day even he agreed he needed to go to the hospital. Long story short is we got him to the ER not one second too soon. Apparently he had developed a bladder infection, that traveled to the kidneys and ended up septic which is a very severe condition. He spent 4 days in the hospital and was finally released, weak as a kitten and looking like he had lost 20 pounds. Seriously, he is the only person I have ever know that comes off a cruise having lost a lot of weight. Why can't things like that ever happen to me. I would have gladly taken his place and  viewed the whole deal as a jump start to a much needed diet. He was scheduled to see a specialist a couple of days after he got out of the hospital. I went with him to the appointment and listened as the doctor described a procedure he wanted to do which involved running a scope into his bladder (I'll let you decipher how he intended to get the scope to the bladder), so he could see if there was an issue that needed to be addressed. Needless to say, Mike was not excited about the whole ordeal, but the doctor assured him that he would prescribe him medication so he would be relaxed going into the procedure that would be done in his office. He also described what he called "Vocal Local" meaning he would be talking him through the procedure, explaining what was going on, therefore taking his mind off of what was actually taking place. So the day of the procedure came. He was anxious that the medication wasn't taking the edge off the anxiety, but his speech was a little slurred so I thought it was doing it's job. They put us in the room and stuck me out of the way (physically speaking). The nurse prepped him and the doctor came in and asked how he was feeling. Mike told him he didn't think the medicine had worked because he was really anxious. Then the doctor said...."Remember me telling you about the "Vocal Local"? as he patted him on the shoulder.... I stifled a snicker that wasn't as stifled as it was meant to be and the following words tumbled through my brain and right out my mouth..... "So does that make you The Penis Whisperer?"..... I mean... Where did that even come from? Well, I will tell you.  In a Nano second my mind went directly to the hypnosis sessions I listen to when I am fighting my insomnia.... Which led to the thought of whispering, which led to the movie "The Horse Whisper", and that's when I thought I was muttering under my breath, but it ended up being way more overstated than a mutter. As soon as the words were out, a very chilly breeze sucked every bit of oxygen out of the room and even though his back was to me, the doctor froze in place, gathered his thoughts (and was probably furiously groping for an adequate come back) and could think of notta.  His nurse chuckled under her breath but quickly sucked it in as he said.... "I didn't hear anything".... I know, I know, it was a very un-righteous thing to say, God forbid, but come on, you gotta admit it was a little funny. I sat as quite as a church mouse during the rest of the procedure. I felt like I should be sent to the principal's office.  I got a brisk cold shoulder from the doctor as we waiting for Mike to get dressed so he could discuss his findings with us. I didn't say a word to him.  I intently read my National Geographic and he typed away on his computer. The tension was very.... Tense. In case you're wondering if I apologized.... No, I did not. I wouldn't have been able to do so with a straight face. On the way home I told Mike that I hated it when people didn't "get me". Then he said the most perfect thing possible.... "Your sense of humor is one of the things I love the most about you.... I always have." Now that's a man who gets me.