A goat is less stubborn

I sat on a hot morning in a waiting room. Waiting....for the neurosurgeon to see me. Waiting for over an hour.

I had the conversation I would have w/ her in my head down pat.

Dr. "I suggest we cut you open. Because that's what Dr.s do....we cut. We don't care...we cut. It won't help you at all, but I really need to pay off this 24 carat diamond ring....ya know what I'm say'n?!!"

Me: "Gee thanks Doc. But everyone tells me you are out for $$. And besides...you are right....surgery won't help. How do I know? Well....I Goggled it. So I would just appreciate it if you prescribed me physical therapy. I mean....I'm doing everything right. At this point in my life I know more than PT's do. But I think I could really benefit from PT...because I goggled it....& I'm a recovering crunchy freak."

I soon get called back to a very cold (as in "this place could use a dash of color" cold) very...medical room. And

I

Wait some moreeeeee.

I sit going over my cue cards. "no surgery, no surgery...no think you....just PT please."

Finally, in breezes my new sparkly Dr.....wearing a diamond as big as the largest bruise on my leg (thanks to the chiropractor...just thought I would share that sexy picture w/ you....cuz I CAN!)

She is very nice, but I view her as the "The Man." One not to be trusted. I had years of grooming to view medical people with question. My poor Mom trusted a Dr who pretty much killed her....for his ineffectiveness & his blase' treatment of the growing tumor in her breast. Luckily she found a great, sweet, gifted Dr who was able to prolong her life. But the damage had been done. "Daughter dear, NEVER trust a Dr. Always investigate, get 2nd 3rd, 4th options. Push for proper treatments. Always question. Never lay yourself down on the alter of a Dr." Andddddddd cue neurosis!

Dr. Sparkly poked my foot. Had me counter presser her hand. Tapped my hip.

"That's IT?! You tap my foot & that's it for diagnosis?!!! I don't think I like you much. Scam artist!".........don't worry...I didn't say my thoughts out loud...I wanted too...but I refrained.

Then she had me waddle down to show me the x-rays. She praised my great spine & how "juicy" all my discs looked. But then showed me the "sad" little disc that was collapsed on one side & "oozing" out onto my sciatic nerve. As she sat in a chair opposite of me she asked me to place my good leg on her knee. My leg straightened a little. She said that was normal for the good leg to start to stiffen up. Next was my bad leg. I couldn't even place it on her knee. She had to do it for me. I couldn't even point my knee cap up. My leg just sat crooked on her leg. She tried to gently straighten it. It was totally useless. The pain was so bad I punched her in the face......well...no I didn't....I restrained myself. My stupid leg had atrophied in the bent position.

Then this evil Dr. said...as she rubbed my foot. "Oh you poor thing. This is real bad. You have suffered too long. I'm sorry you hurt so much. But we can fix this. Don't worry!" And she carefully placed my foot down onto the floor & helped me up.

I did my cough & sniff...."stupid allergies routine" to hide my threatening tears as she walked me back to the room. DANG IT....why did she have to be so NICE?!

Of course the first thing out of her mouth was "Sweetie, we can make you pain free in a few days. Just a small, quick SURGERY. We just go in & clean the bulging disc material off the nerve & that's it! You'll be able to get up & walk like you haven't walked for 6 months out of the surgery center. So how about tomorrow?"

And you know what my crunchy little heart said. "Surgery? But everyone...& I say NO!"

And what came out of my mouth. "HELZ YEAH, Do it NOW....NOW"

Lucky I couldn't do it the next day. The nurse talked me out of it because I had to close on our new house that day. Whatever. I was totally for it! Yeah baby! Spine surgery & house closing!

What happened to me?!!! Who was this person? What about a 2nd option?! What would Google think?!

So surgery was scheduled for the next week.

I went back to my friends house & my crunch chastised me. "Stupid GIRL! You caved!"

I questioned what I had done. Maybe I could cancel the evil surgery in a few days. Better yet...have my husband do it for me! Yeah...that's what I would do! I didn't need the surgery. I could work it out myself.

4 days after that, I laid on my belly to do my back exercises and then I froze...up on my forearms...belly on the floor. Cobra pose top be exact.

My body became paralysed with pain. Searing pain ripped through my body. I couldn't go fully on the floor because the wave of agony was shocking. I screamed & screamed for my son to help. But could he hear me? OH NOOOOOOO cuz he was watching tv in the other room!

So I cried once again, in my friends house, on her floor. Just me myself & the devil. I finally got my son to get the bottle of Tramadol (which as my Dr friend said is a "Jr High joke, not a real pain killer"....greattttttt) I popped 2 pills & then rolled the bottle far enough away for me to reach it....cuz I would down the whole bottle.

I was sweating from being stuck. Did I mentioned..I was in THIS POSE?!! DID I?!!!

Finally after an hour, I was able to lower my upper body onto the floor...in a funky weird position. My husband came home & tried to move me. But this pain was NOTHING like the last time. This pain was worse. I begged God to make me go unconscious. I was face down, eating carpet, begging God not to leave me. I saw no way out of the pain. Finally after 3 hours on the floor my husband was able to move me...as I screamed..... onto a futon mattress on the floor. I was in hell, but at least I was on my side on a futon. I stayed laying on my left side....for 14 hours. Every once in a while I would try to move, but I couldn't. Peeing in granny pads had become the norm. But paralysed for 14 hours was not norm!

At 9am the next day I was able to stand after struggling to get up for 20 minutes. As I shuffled to the bathroom is agony....I remembered the conversation I had w/ God telling Him he would need to physically guide me..... blared loudly in my head.

Point....taken.

God had for sure, physically stopped, dropped & rolled me into what I need to do.

"That's IT! Stop this non sense! Get thee to Dr Sparkles & get surgery for the love of Me!"

I would get surgery next week. I would yell & rage at my father on the phone as he said not to get surgery. I would not read anything anymore about spine surgery on the Google. I would gladly pop Vicoden to get me through the week. I would not feel bad about this! I would gladly pay for Dr Sparkles 24 carat diamond ring!

God had spoken & I finally would listened!

Surgery...here I come...pleasepleaseplease work.

Piss and wind

2 weeks ago, my world changed.
2 weeks ago I could not get out of my van without whimpering & burning with pain.
2 weeks ago I walked out of the surgery unit, without pain.

6 months...everyday...pain. Not one day of relief came to me. Sure I had good days, but always with pain. Around 5 months I told God.

"God....I don't do well with "listening to the still small voice." I have a real bad connection down here. It ain't for the lack of trying. It's just me I suppose. So I need you to throw me a bone. I really need you to phycially guide me to what I need to do next. If I need to do Chiropractic treatments everyday for a year I will. Acupuncture? Massage? Drug treatment? Surgery? Standing on my head in a pool? I'll do it. But I can't hear ya down here so just do what you have to do to get me the treatment that will heal me."

I asked this knowing full well the trouble I would be borrowing. I did not ask this lightly. I was ready to accept to be physically taken where I needed to be.

I am shocked I survived.

A day after talking to God, the pain left. And what replaced it was indescribable. White hot burning agony....yeah...that about sums it up.

I could no longer sit, stand or lay w/o extreme constant pain.

A week later I got stuck in my friends bed...my Friend's bed...not even my own. Ohhhh no...I had to be paralyzed...on my friends guest bed.....and I had to pee.

I usually could lay down to relax, but this day was different. I could not move. Not to roll over. Not to sit up. Not even to move my legs. Not to push myself up. I was completely paralyzed. And if I tried to move the pain would shoot through me so bad I wanted to vomit. I started to sweat & moan for God to kill me. I couldn't even touch my skin. My whole leg was on fire. It felt like a charlie horse...through my enter leg...that lasted for 4 hours. There was no letting up on the pain. All I could do was lye on my side, in my friends bed, alone. My husband went shopping 3 hours into this little personal hell. As he left he asked if he should buy me pads. At first I said no...through clenched teeth. Surely this hell would pass. But then I recognized pride & I changed my mind. I would need pee pads.

He left & I cried. He was gone for over an hour. I would try to calm myself & tell myself just to relax. Slowly I would try to sit up. The pain would rip through me & I would stuff a pair of socks in my mouth to stifle the screams.

Soon I couldn't deny it. I had to pee. Not only pee...but piss...a lot. Even if my husband was with me, he would not be able to move me. I needed the pee pads...I needed them NOW! I start to panic. Then I beg. "please, please, pleaseeeeeee, not on my friends bed." Over & over I begged Jesus. After a half an hour of begging.....my bladder began to loosen & give up it's fight. On the small dresser by my head was a bunch of clean socks I never got to put away. (If you are confused as to why I am in my friends guest bed w/ my laundry....be confused no more! We were staying with our friends while we waited to close on our new house. We had sold ours & now had to wait. We were at our friends house for 3 weeks. They are saints!)

I bundled all the socks together to form a pad (see, all my years of being crunchy paid off!) I Then...painfully...jammed them in my pants....stupid leg was so painful to move. I barked out "Throw me a bone here God! If you are not going to help me hold my piss at least help me move this damn leg so I can protect MY FRIENDS BED!" Soon...I began to laugh. Hard. I can't believe...I'm doing this. Between the hysterical fits of laughter....I pissed....on a pad made of socks......in my friends guest bed.

5 minutes later, my husband walks in...with the pads. I don't know whether to be humiliated or angry or relieved. Did God....really just ignore my pee pleads?! It wasn't a crazy request God!

My saint of a husband helps me out. I then relax...& wait.

Finally.... painfully, but steadily, my husband is able to pull me up off the bed. I feel like I have been hit by a bus. Grumbling, I drag my paralyzed leg to the bathroom. Plopping myself down onto my throne..I wait & murmur. I'm still mad at God. Mad, angry, humiliated. I just pee'd on myself. Yeah...thanks for noth'n God!

Then I pee.

& pee.

& pee.

Let me just tell you.....I pee'd like a frat boy after an all night bender. I pee'd so much I could have read the last book in the Harry Potter series. I think I even took a nap while peeing. How the heck it didn't come out while I was laying on the bed is beyond me.

I sat dazed..on the pot. (I really hope you are visualising this.) Maybe God did help me out. Walking back to the bed I was scared of what I would see. My husband said it was dry.

Ummm what? I just empty a pint of piss on that mattress, are you sure?

It's dry as a bone.

I made him smell it. He didn't want to. SMELL IT! Smell it NOW! (he did) Then I smelled it. I almost called my friend down to smell it.....but I didn't...cuz that would be weird.

I'll be damned. The bed was dry. It smelled fine. Some how I managed to pee a lung out, but not have it get on the mattress.

I guess God did hear my prayers.

I later apologised to Him for ragging at Him. Then I recognized I had a serious problem.

God had psychically placed me where I now needed to go. Soon he placed my down on the door step of a neurosurgeon. She would be the one that was an answer to a prayer.

But first...I had to second guess....& again God physically told me were to go.

And this time....would be more hellish then the last.

That girl

I am the type of girl who....



Didn't wear tampons till I was 15 cuz my Mom told me I would get TSS & die.



Didn't like to take pain medication like Tylenol or Ibuprofen in the 80's because Mom said I would be poisoned & die



Had 4 babies...3 of them drug free.



Uses a neti pot...Sick invention that sometimes work...but always makes a mess & gags me.



Eats raw garlic when I feel a cold coming on...then my farts & sweat smell like garlic...sexyyyy.



Used FAM (Fertility Awareness Method) for birth control successfully for 9 years cuz you know, BC is of the devil & makes me cranky & moody.



Goes to the Chiropractor when my back is wonky.



Has breastfed for a total of 73 months.



Used cloth diapers.



Does/did yoga.



Thinks positive thinking can ease pain.



Exercise will make all your aches & pains go away.



Sniffs eucalyptus oil when I get a sinus infection.



Ahhh, yep...that's me! Crunchy girl!



Oh how young & stupid I was. Yeah crunch worked...when I had no real problems! I was the girl telling people that if they put their mind to it they could achieve a healthy drug free birth, pain free nursing, a healthy body & mind, & goop free sinus.



To all those people....I was YOUNG & STUPID.....forgive me!



Now at the ripe o' age of 38...I have learned my lesson. Drugs are good! Sometimes positive thinking can't change your health!





Uggg, I'm the girl who judged harshly those trollops that got an IUD shoved up into their lady parts. For SHAME! Putting a foreign object into ones cavity! Insanity!



Yeah....then I went into peri menopause & bled buckets for 10 days a month. Oh yeah...I battle mental illness that didn't go away w/ yoga & positive thinking...so the thought of having another spawn had me day dreaming of how I was going to kill myself.



I was the girl who"humfpt" when young moms wanted nothing to do w/ a drug free birth. Why would they want to deny their baby the gift of a drug free birth? (note to reader....I had that thought for less then a year....cuz then I started actually WORKING with birthing moms. And birth %&$#ing hurts!) Then I got pregnant w/ my 4th & my body broke down. That birth was 25 hours long & very VERY painful.



Rolled my eyes at the fear mongers who said that we should fear the flu. "the sky is falling! Get a flu shot or go see your Dr!" Fevers are good, they help your body kill off the infections. Raw garlic & large doses of vit C will take care of things.



Then I got walking pneumonia (thought it was just the flu), cracked my ribs from coughing for 3 months. Then finally crawled into prompt care screaming "give me drugs, DRUGS!" I could hear the Dr. reading my nose culture in the hallway. He actually said "holy S&%$, this ain't the flu!" This no named Dr, who I grew up to think didn't care (Some Dr's are evil, but not all) held my shoulders, looked into my eyes, told me I was very sick & I must take these drugs. If I don't get better in 24 hours I had to go straight to the ER. Pneumonia can kill quickly. I remember the fear in his face. Then I remember nothing for a few hours as I convulsed in pain & fever....reeking of garlic. Hearing my husband say it smelled like death in our bedroom.



10 hours later I came back to earth. The drugs working their magic. Me realising what I fool I was for nearly killing myself.



That was the day the crunch....got punched in the face.









I now have a herniated disc, spinal stenosis & severe sciatica......Let me just say, all those years of "baby wearing" shot my back to hell. Dang babies! They look cute but deep down inside they only live to destroy & maim!

For almost 6 moths I have done "physical therapy" at home. I did back exercises twice a day. I sleep on my side now ...which I HATE. I breath deeply & meditate. I even saw a chiro. ...who worked on me for about a month & saw me worsen...then promptly told me "Maybe it's time to try an MRI & drugs."


My pain has worsened so much I now take Vicoden. Yeah...me...the chick who does acupressure on myself for headaches instead of popping pills. A month ago I had to leave my job. I never walk off a job. But 2 hours into cleaning I started to panic from the pain. The pain making me want to vomit. Soon my leg wouldn't move. I found myself on the marble bathroom floor trying not to scream out from the devil grip on my leg.

And so that's my life. Caught somewhere between face down on my friends carpet shaking in agony, sweating, howling to God to kill me & pissing myself in my bed because once I lay down I can no longer move. (don't worry, I use real, old lady "oops I crapped my pants" pee pads.....I don't crochet my own!)

But fear not! I am on my way into surgery! With a Mayo (& not the kind you spread on bread) trained Dr!

A real Dr!
A Dr. with drugs! (For SHAME!)
A Dr. with tools (Rub some garlic on your arse!)
A Dr. who can slice into my spine! (But that's not the way nature intended!)
A Dr. who will bill me an arm & a leg...& I won't care! (positive thoughts are free!)



Oh yes my friends...this girl has gone



MAINSTREAM!



I'm kick'n the crunch to the curb & embracing Doctor MAGIC!



Next....I will shop at the MALL instead of Goodwill!



So my friends, I will return after my evil surgery to report how it worked. Wish me luck. Sprinkle me with fairy dust. Dance around The Burning Man. Howl at the moon. Or....just pray for me. And if anyone needs some cloth menstrual pads or a neti pot....come on over. I'll trade those things for Vicoden!

Float

For this brief moment this ol' questioning skeptic has felt peace, calm, joy & faith.

I'm just going to sit here & enjoy it. I'm going to silence my rambling mind. I'm sure soon, this feeling will blow away as a tissue in the wind. I have spent so long questioning & analyzing all the feeling & thoughts that jump into my head. "Oh, well that's just how the brain works. God is not involved. The Holy Ghost is not involved. The Man in the Moon is not involved. I just heard something that feels nice...like a nice song. It means nothing, or does it? Is it my brain firing off neurons or is it truly the spirit speaking to me?"

Then I just keep tumbling down the rabbit hole. Questioning & judging & doubting & analyzing....round & round my mind goes.....It has become draining....this bullet train my sick brain has put me on.

But for now I will allow myself to say...I felt the Holy Spirit. I'm not going to question right now but just enjoy it. Let it float me away to a place that has been lost to me for so long.

Blessings? Where?!

Blessings....sighhhhhhhhh.

For the most part I see them all around....kind of...if I'm in a decent mood.

But then I get pissy.

My eyes are crap.

My house won't sell.

The laundry breeds.

The car is in the shop...again..

My leg hair is getting thicker.

Don't even ask about the neck, chin & lip hair.

My back is whack.

Whine. Whine. Whine.

I must say...it's hard to see through blinding pain day after day. Pain makes me cranky. Pain makes me impatient. Pain makes me madder then a cat on fire.

Since I stopped working out...which was the single most stupid thing I have done in a long time.... I gave up...so has my back. For 4 months I have had Sciatica...every...dang-nab-it day.....four months.

Did you hear me? 4 months

So what sciatica is..is basically a mashed nerve that shoots pain from my arse straight down into my foot. At it's worse, the pain literally cripples me...at the least...it makes me want to chop my leg off. Really, I have thought...Just whack it off! But then...with my luck, I would probably have phantom pain & then I would just end up eating a bullet.

Yes, I have seen a back cracker. It was relaxing....but the thought of paying this man thousands of $ to crack my back & squeeze my butt (yeah...I totally get felt up...most enjoyable part !) takes any relaxing thoughts & beats them w/ a baseball bat. Plus...there is no proof that after I spend 1,000 of $$ it will work.

Yes, I work out...well more like grab my arse as I moan in pain as I try to move my body... in a way to ease the pain. If I work out 3 times a day, the pain can be bearable.

Yes, I hop myself up on Ibuprofen. But I find I need to up my dose every time just to be able to breath...so that's not working.

Yes, I have considered ingesting medical Mary Jane...Hey, it's an herb of the earth & it's safer then Vicodin or Oxycontin....but then again I am not a hippie & it's not legal in my state...whatever.

Yes, I eat lots of chocolate.

Sigh...what's a girl to do? Live like this forever? Holy crap I'm only 37! I can't bend over to put on my socks w/o pissing my pants from the pain!

So one day I talked to my religious leader. I call him The Man. Not as in "Sock to The Man, man..he sucks!" More like..."Golly he's the nicest Man in the world, man." I talk about my religious mind screws & he gives me hugs & candy. Pretty sweet deal. One day I was talking to The Man with my husband. As I sat in his office I asked...NAY Demanded he help my husband give me a blessing to relieve my pain.

So yeah...I am in that much pain. Anyone who knows me, knows I cock my eyebrow at spiritual healing stuff.

The Man & my husband agreed to give me some healing. Now do I believe that people can be healed by "laying on of hands"? Well, I have never seen the evidence, but I like to believe in the possibility. I am a pretty harsh critic when it comes to spiritual stuff.

But I trusted these guys & I thought..I need this or the LEG IS COMING OFF!

So what happens during a blessing is simple. The Man puts a drop of anointed Virgin Olive Oil on my head. Then resting his hands on my head he says my full name & "anoints" me with the oil. Then his hands are lifted for a second. Next, 4 hands are now placed on my head as the husband seals the anointing. The man sealing the anointing then says a non scripted prayer. He speaks as he is moved to & I sit there....all the while the hands of his friend rests on top of his.

I sit there with 4 warm hands on my head.

Big, man hands.

The words my husband speaks are simple & sweet. No revelation is spoken. No speaking in tongues. No lightning is shooting through my head. Just plain & simple words.

And I relish it.

I am struck by how lucky I am to have these hands perched on top of my head.

I am lucky to have these men in my life who are sweet & kind & funny.

I am lucky to know, if I ever suffer from pain of body, mind or spirit...there is always to safe place for me to land.

I am lucky that these men believe in God more then I do.

I am lucky they take my ranting with a grain of salt & a grain of fear.

I am lucky that these men help guide me when I am blinded.

I am lucky that I feel their love.

How many gals really know that the men in their lives love them?

That Sunday I got up from the chair after the blessing. My butt muscle seized like it always does....just to let me know my nerve is still damaged....but this time the only thing I was focused on was the faces of 2 really great guys. Just men. Just dudes, fellas, gents. No God stood before me. No kings. No rulers. Just 2 guys who loved me.

I really didn't care if I was healed or not. I cared more about the love these fellas pumped through my brain. I cared more that they believed.

Funny thing though. The next day I feel ill. Ya know the type... every-time-your-heart-pumps-the-blood-pounds-so-loud-in-your-head-you-want-to-scream ill. Then fever, shivering ill. Yeah. I know, RIGHT! After I just got a freak'n blessing! Not funny God! But as I broke down in tears about my sinus revolt & weeping that I can be sick AND have butt pain...the pain...went away. So for 2 days I was really sick. Sinus head pounding sick. But my back? Barely a throb. I didn't hobble to the bathroom. I could roll over in bed w/o out Lamaze breathing. I could sit w/o a knife in my back. I could stand up straight.

When my sinus pain went away...my butt/leg/foot pain came roaring back.

So my blessing? Well, I have chronic, searing, life altering back/butt/leg pain. Maybe w/ therapy & other treatments I will be able to get a handle on it. But the blessing is

I'm not alone.

And I happened to be surrounded by really, truly, lovely, funny, kind men. Men who take my kids out to hockey games. Men who can take a joke. Men who let me sing rock songs w/ them. Men who sit by me in the movies & offer me popcorn. Men who high 5 my daughters.

Men who who are not afraid to show me or my famliy love & feed me candy....

even when I swear, spit venom, dance like a wounded chicken....while clutching my butt for the world to see.

Letters

Seeing my Dad reclining on the couch fighting sleep makes me smile. There is work that needs to be done, so I sneak off into the front room. I can feel the blood pump through my veins. I become startled at how slow it is. I blink & I am face down into the blue carpet...drooling.





How long have I been laying here?





I find I can't get up to my feet. I'm on my hands & knees panting. I realize my time is running out. I am not frightened at all. I am very excited. My head is about to explode with joy, but my body doesn't respond.





I hear my Dad ask me when will my family return home from shopping. I try to respond in a way that won't frighten my Dad. In the strongest voice I can muster, I crock out "Soon, Dad..soon." He is pleased with my response & goes back to his couch induced sleep.





I am calm & happy as my body starts to break down. My letters to my family have been written. The clothes I will wear have been set out. The only thing I worry about is their pain. I did my best to explain in my letters how excited I was & how happy I will be with my new adventure. The letters would help them cope. I have done all that I can do to prepare them for my death.





I blink once more...& again I am face down in the dark blue carpet. I feel the wave of death getting deeper. My belly is excited. It jumps with wild abandon...just like it did the time I went down those crazy water slides at the park. I can't contain my happiness. My eyes close as I start to descend down that eternal water slid.





"CAW-CAW!"





What the heck?!





"CAW-CAW!!"





Opening one eye I see a jet black crow by the side of my face. I ask her what she wants...I'm kind of busy dying here.





"What about the notes to your friends?"





CRAP! My friends! Oh no! They need notes too. I roll to my back as the crow moves to stand on my toes....her feet a fleshy and cold. The words I have in my head refuse to move to my mouth. I need help...but my lips are starting to numb. The great bird cocks her head, understanding my plea. Her beady black eye moves slightly off to the left, I follow her gaze & find my child's crayon laying on the floor. It takes every once of strength I have to grab at it. With the crayon held in my weak grip, I frantically start to write my love notes to my friends.





My pulse slows & my breathing comes in short bursts. I start to panic as the names of my friends leak out of my brain. So many names. Men & women I love. Stupid lack of oxygen is giving me death brain farts. I see each friend as clear as day...but their names have escape me.





Scribbling on bits of paper I find scattered on the floor, the crows start to gather. One by one, they swoop gracefully down to the floor. They hop & chatter. excited. joyful. I tell them to wait. Waitttt. The crows start to caw at me, begging me to play with them.





"Give it a rest! I'm trying to write here!"





A crow hops on my chest & ask me why I panic.





"If you haven't noticed I'm dying here & I have to write these notes to my friends. They need to know how much I love them. They have to know how unique they are. They have to know how much I admire them. So stop the Caw-Caw pow wow & let me write!"





The crows scatter & watch...still cawing to themselves...I am now unnerved...those dang crows...never can take direction.





By now the names of the friends escape me...I am left to address them by nick names. The Hugger, The Crafter, The Nurturer, The Fiesty, The Saint, The Mother, The Bishop, The Giggler, The Beadmaker, The Musicman, The Dreamer, The Godfather, The Writer, The Classic...name after name. Paper flies. My crayon turns to dust. A crow drops another crayon onto my belly. My writing become weak squiggles as my life drains into the carpet.





Soon the paper runs out. I try to write on my clothes but it won't hold the words.





"But my friends...they have to know."



My crow scoots a black marker towards me. It bumps my pinkie. I look at her. "But I'm dead."





Not yet...your not done...we'll wait.





The panic leaves me. With all the strength I can muster, I remove my clothes. I continue to write my love notes to my friends on my flesh. Words of encouragement, love, humor soon begin to blacken out my skin.





I finish my quest. The crows gather all my paper notes & begin to cover my body. I sweep them up w/ my arms & I am amazed by all the notes I have. The paper is warm & soft. I close my eyes.





"I'm ready to play now."





My crow friends dance and hop. Their caws lift me up & away.





"Caw-Caw_Caw-Caw"


Beep-Beep-Caw-Peep-Caw-Beep







I awake to the weird chorus of the alarm clock & a pack of cackling black crows perched on the tree outside of my window. By the hazy light coming through the crack in my window blind I know it will be another gloomy January day.



Pushing up from my pillow I notice that I had been drooling...so...gross.



This...... is my morning.

What...the...Heck. Seriously?

These dreams are nutty!



My friend "The Nurturer" will have a hay day dissecting my weird a$$ dream. She thinks dreams holds the key to our lives. The can unlock our pain, joys,sorrows & fears. We just need to learn how to interpret them.



I, "The Skeptic" thinks it's a bunch of flaky crap...although...fun flaky crap.



I sit on the edge of my bed listening to the sounds of the wise crows. I think about how I have been seeing them a lot lately, sitting in trees.... picking at the neighbors garbage bags. Most people don't like crows. But I do. Black crows are one of the smartest birds out there in bird land. The best part of the crow....their personality. They are jokers. They will dive bomb other birds...even birds LARGER then them....just so they will be chased. They play tag...TAG! Who doesn't love tag?!



I get 2 distinct massages out of my dream. (The Nurture would be proud I'm putting so much effort into this dream crap) The first message;



Tell my friends & family how much I love them. Be more open with my admiration & love for them.



Second message...and the most important one;





















Stop drinking chocolate milk before bed.

Sexy fine mental issues

I have issues.

Raised by older parents, partying with older people...it messed me up as a girl. I spent most of my youth shopping at women's' stores. I couldn't stand stores like the hip Fashion Bug or the "teen" isles at JC Penny's. Oh no! I shopped at The Silhouette, a swanky little store for OLD LADIES! (Think Clearwater Creek...but a bit fancier)

I didn't realise I had a problem until my Aunt came out to visit me (which...she never did before...it totally freaked me out!) after my mom died. My Dad & my Aunt drag me out to the mall to go shopping for new school clothes since mom was no longer shopping with the living. I go into my favorite store & go hog wild! I come out with soft, green dress pants, a cream turtle neck & a matching green sweater w/ cream colored leaves on it. It was beautiful....for a 50 year old!





Here's a little detour. Ya'll know by now...I love pictures! Enjoy this small picture gallery dedicated to my love of turtlenecks pared w/ sweaters. I wore them all the time....yes, I even wore sweaters in the summer.




Rocking my blue knit sweater at my 15th. birthday.













I'm 15. I'm cranky. I hated how I looked. Notice my bangs. My mom was horrified that I sat for our Christmas picture with "greasy spikes for bangs.". And I....didn't care.

Sexy Freshman sweater combo

Still 15...not as cranky. Here's Dad & I on spring break after Mom died. Notice...the sweater. We went to the Virgin Islands...& I wore a sweater. I even wore it over my bathing suit....did I mention we went to the very hot Virgin Islands? Those were the days I didn't sweat.

18....wearing my fathers turtleneck & sweater. Cuz nothing says awesome then a retro mans sweater......and sausage roll bangs.

This has concluded my pictorial stroll through my sweater years...carry on.

I was confident as I strolled out of the dressing room! My Aunt gasped. She thought I was joking. She argued & argued with me that the clothing I wore was...get this...not appropriate for a 15 year old girl. I looked like a 35 year old soccer mom. Of course that was the look I was going for, but she still refused to buy it for me. So we were at a stand still...either I buy the funky teen crap or nothing. I voted nothing & walked out of the store.


My Aunt & Dad argue about me...the problem child. How dare you wear a sweater young lady! Slut it up for Heavens sake! Be a un respectable teenager for once in your life!


My Dad finally stood up for me & said if I feel comfortable in a sweater set then so be it. He went back & bought the outfit for me...as my Aunt wrung her hands.



So this old lady grew up. I now can wear what I want. And I do...oh yes, I do! First & foremost...it has to be comfortable. I have SIDs....... Sensory Integration Dysfunction so comfort is a must, not a want. SID basically means if it feels weird...I'm off all day & can't function.


Some times I can't sleep cuz my tum tum hurts.... because I'm having a bloated day & my waistband is killing me. So I strip off the offending tight undies. OHHH YEAHHHH my husband says...then he cries silently as I put back on my baggy sleep pants sans the tighter then heck undies.


I can't move...honestly move.... if my waist band is too tight, my butt is squeezed, my thighs are squeezed (let's stop here & give thanks for stretchy jeans! Oh my heck what a Godsend! remember when you would have to warm up your thick jeans? Auuggg, I shutter at the thought!) my bra is off center a millimeter, my socks have bumps in it, my neck is squeezed or my armpits restrained. Oh my goodness I'm a child!


So I now walk around town in this......

O' my plum, velveteen sweat suit! How I love thee! You are like butter! & your waistband doesn't make me fart!


While I'm at home I need my house shoes. I have 2 pair...1 for summer & these...






for winter. (Note my winter thermals. RAWWWRRRRR) My shoes help me get through the day. When I can't find them I cry "MY SHOES! WHERE'S MY SHOES!!! I...CAN'T......FUNCTION!" "Shoes? SHOooOOooES?" (like...my shoes will answer me...I need meds!) Then I flap my hands as if I'm shaking off the dish washing water. I frantically pace, I moan & kvetch all the while flapping my hands until I find them.


My husband screaming "KIDS! Find your mothers shoes! FIND THEM!"
The house is in a panic. "For all the love that is holy...Find your mothers Dang SHOES!"


I find my comfortable, loved shoes & sigh.


My husband then cries a little.




I hope I never get too fug-tagualr with my wardrobe. I rely on friends that say "Seriously Jen? That won't do." I have a husband who is not afarid...no...he is afraid...but he does tell me when something might look...."off."

I hope as I get older I can continue to merge fashion with comfort. Lets face it....life is too short to have your butt get flossed everyday. I don't want to be the women who smells like mothballs as I wear my velveteen track suits. BUT...I do want the be the women who wears velveteen track suits....good luck peeling those babies out of my cold, clammy hands!



But I have confidence in my future. Really, I'm already out in public with plum sweat pants....I can't regress anymore....... can I?