On second thought, if I wrote this blog and you read it then I would have to kill you (to save my marital discretionaries!). Just kidding! Next blog! ;J
Tag: gallows humor
The leopard print scarf in the bed
Perhaps it is the sheerness of the fabric that adds allure to the leopard print scarf in the bed with me this evening? After all the fine braided fringe is as delicate as it is a bit racy draped from my waist, a little off to one side. Yeah that was fun while I was upright earlier today! I accepted the compliment from the only homo sapiens of the female genre that saw it. Oh how I love a great twist on the ol’ oblong scarf look!
But this look continued long after bedtime and not for any reason other than I was not in any shape to return it to the scarf organizer. So after a wretched series of breakthrough convulsive episodes I finally had the fine motor skills to untie the knot and remove it. I rather like it draped around my neck in the wee hours of the morning as I sit here blogging in my partial day-wear, partial night-wear. That’s in style, right? The ultra casual look of pajama-like fabrics with a twist of animalistic flair? Sigh. O.k. It’s just plain weird, I know . . .
The part of the evening that went extraordinarily well was our new Skype Bible Prayer Group. I am blessed to join a couple of lovely ladies, fellow bloggers for a bit of gaggle, scripture, prayer, and more gaggle. It’s almost like having them over for a cup of bullet-proof coffee-n-coconut cream (my fav!). If you too are largely homebound or isolated and want to join a couple of gals on Thursday nights who love the Lord, please contact me via this blog. We are praying for the gals who may join us in the future; could it be you? I will also help put together a gentlemen’s group if there is interest then bow out. Please don’t sit there alone if there’s a tug on your heart to get back into some uplifting fellowship, k?
So some things are a little wild around here as I tweak a new treatment plan for mercury toxicity. Steve and I are hopeful, really hopeful. Healing crises are often in the mix of these kinds of things so we will hold on to the promises and cross of our Lord, Jesus Christ as we proceed. Who knows? I may even start a new bedtime fashion trend in the meantime! Who says leopard prints are only for daywear anyways? Tee hee. Now I know where your mind just went and I’ll bet your beloved would agree to join you there. Maybe it’s time for a little spice in this journey too? Hmmmmm. JJ
Oh What A Night
What a date we had tonight.
Dinner: Parkview Hospital 24-hour grill.
Movie: HGTV on the ER Suite flat screen.
Drinks: Bottled beverages and 1114 cc fluids for me.
And a whole lot of shaking going on: 3 hours of seizure attacks, non-stop.
It’s as I have heard it said that life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.
I am feeling much better now. I love IV fluids! (Weird, I know.)
We are sleepy!
The Burger on the Bathroom Floor
Sometimes there’s a bride carried in the front door at the same time there’s another bride carried out the back door . . .
Hi there. My name is Julie and I have a wacky life. Not that my life has ever been boring, mind you. Lots of difficult things have kept me on my toes (or on my knees before the Lord) for a good portion of my days on this earth. I used to say it was like cooking with all of the burners on the stove cranked up to the highest setting. Then there was this network marketing book entitled, Mach 1 with your hair on fire that described things pretty well for me too. Helen Keller wrote in her book The Open Door, “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing at all.” O.K. You get the picture. There is no rest for the weary so get over it, get on with it, and better get right with Jesus to see you through!
So what’s up with the burger on the bathroom floor, you ask? Balancing my blood sugar is a key part of managing this crazy biotoxin illness that came on the heels of Lyme disease that came in through the backdoor of fibromyalgia many years ago. Actually hypoglycemia came first followed by hypothyroidism, fibro, yada, yada, yada. This all requires me to carry a protein snack and water with me virtually everywhere I go. Popcorn doesn’t cut it very long. I cheat sometimes with fatty veggie chips when grocery shopping only to follow-up with a chunk of lunchmeat from one of those ziplock bags from the deli counter usually at a stoplight when driving home. Whatever. Who needs a knife and fork anyways?
Dressed up for the wedding of my husband’s son yesterday and our friends’ son today, I opted for the bigger black leather purse (to match my shoes of course and the only other purse I own). I could stash a butternut squash coconut muffin, some coconut cream, and a burger-lettuce roll-up secured in a Ziploc baggie in there and look like all of the rest of the women with maybe a little extra, er, baggage, if you know what I mean. Who would know that I could survive an invasion of body snatchers for at least a day with no more than a twinge of hunger when it was all over? I would be ready. Unfortunately I did not plan on a wardrobe malfunction (a term coined in the USA after an egregious moment by Janet Jackson during the Super Bowl Half Time Show a few years ago. I won’t go into it here). Or rather a leather purse malfunction. I barely made it through my own snafu with my dignity!
The D.J.s were cranking up the music at the Light Guard Armory to add some ambiance to the large plain, cinder-block walled room with metal doors pained beige to match and linoleum flooring that had been waxed for more years than I have seen the light of day. The host families had done their best to decorate the place with table adornments inspired by nature and set up a simple, yet respectable snack table for later munching. I knew I probably wouldn’t be able to eat any of it (can you say M&Ms and Reeses Pieces for dessert?) so I settled into the scene comfortable with the stash in my purse. Surely the burger was o.k. unrefrigerated for a couple of hours. The only problem was that I was getting very hungry!
What’s a gal to do waiting with all of the other guests for the wedding party to arrive, dressed up in her Sunday best with low blood sugar looming and a burger in her purse? Well I learned a long time ago that if you need a moment of solace you can always escape to the bathroom. No one usually questions your actions in there! It’s a little different story, however, if you are a gal since gals tend to chat while tinkling, primping, washing their hands, and adjusting their bra straps not necessarily in that order! How do you fit in whipping out a burger in your purse? Answer: you don’t.
The next level of defense is to squirrel away in a bathroom stall, quietly unwrap the nourishment of choice, and snatch a few bites while crouched between the open areas on either side of the door. If someone “accidentally” sees you wiping your fanny through the crack by the hinge it’s o.k. but eating in there? EWWWWWW! No way! But who really cares anyways if you haven’t used the toilet just moments before and the place is clean. I mean my hands were clean. Oh yes, and one must make sure that no one else has camped there in the past hour either, if you know what I mean! Once you have your sequencing down, you can hide your medical self care in this way if you so choose just like a diabetic might do the same when administering insulin in a public place. Sometimes it’s just better to take care of it in the one private place to which you can always retreat.
I did not count on what happened next. I was one large bite from finishing my life-giving, 1/2 burger wrapped in Romaine lettuce with a wedge of coconut spread when the burger went tumbling onto the floor. Oh my goodness! Not my precious sustenance! Suddenly I became acutely aware of how really wrong it is to bring food into a bathroom. Then trying to eat it there even in secret no longer seemed like a good idea. Years of preserving my sense of social graces came to a screeeeeeching halt! There’s a burger rolling on the bathroom floor and it came from my direction!
Of course I did not count on what happened next either. Just then I heard what seemed like a gaggle of women entering the restroom. Holy crap! (Pun might be intended here.) In a flash I made a dash to pick up the chunk o’ meat, rinse it off in the sink, hide it in my hand, murmur something like, “excuse me my stuff is in there,” and retreat back into the stall with whatever style and grace I could preserve in my moment of horror. How could I ever have explained a burger rolling on the floor? Never mind. Nothing came to mind. I stuffed the once delectable beef/bison griller into the open piece of Saran wrap in my purse and zipped it closed. Snack time was over. I would have to survive on the bites consumed thus far. I thought I would be o.k. with that so I walked “looking normal” out of the stall to wash my hands then leave. The two unsuspecting witnesses left with their curious glances, having never stopped their conversation during their porcelain activities. Cool beans. I was now in the clear and free to leave as well.
Sigh. Some things in life are strange at times. You just gotta do what you gotta do and laugh about it if you possibly can. Gentle Reader: the next time you grab a burger off the grill try not to think of me munching somewhere in a bathroom stall, k? It just might change your appetite a bit. If you do try adding some more spicy mustard and you will be fine. I promise. JJ
A day in the life of our dog
8:30 a.m. The big guy has finally finished praying, eating out of a tiny bowl, and remembered the fuzzy one at his feet. Yippee! It’s time for mad dashes across the yard at Top Gun speed in the cool air that I really like. The tall one thinks I really like that neon green ball but really it’s the hip massages I crave that follow when I roll onto my back at just the right moment. Roll over too soon and the scratches will barely reach my undercoat. Submit too late and he mutters something about work as our bonding time ends. HEY, I LIVE FOR THIS! What else is there in a dog’s life?
8:45 a.m. No way the dude got as tall as he is with the dry nuggets he feeds me. Better check out what’s in that little black bowl on the table when he’s in my storm shelter (aka bathroom) later. Finally it’s time to eat again, gourmet Purina Select for my allergies, but it’s chump change for a pup with discerning tastes. Oh well. I’ll see what I can charm out of the girly one when she appears after my post-breakfast nap.
9:00 a.m. I watch out the window as my buddy leaves in the bat mobile with funky racks on the roof and a grumbling noise that’s worse than me. Sigh. Who knows when the girly one will find me lying here in the laundry room. Better position myself so I can see her when she comes for me yet still defend my turf if needed. My eyes may be covered with furry lids yet I know when that beastly garbage truck, UPS invader, yellow child carrier, meter reader or anyone else threatens my territory. Time to go to work or is it sleep? They will never know!
9:30 a.m. Looks like the girly one has entered my zone here at the front of the house but she is ignoring me already. “Hi Elle” doesn’t cut it when my ears need scratching! Sometimes she gives me a teaser then goes and washes her hands in the perennial water bowl on the counter. Nice sentiment! I never brush my teeth when I lick your pants do I? Those earthlings just don’t get it. My mouth is cleaner than a baby’s bottom! Just ask G.J., the mutt that used to lick your grandmother’s feet every night. Heaven for both of them for sure.
10:00 a.m. More food smells fill my nose! Sometimes she’s eating in the unauthorized zone for me, in the back of the house somewhere and sometimes she’s out here with me in the kitchen. I like it when I am within range of the good stuff. She eats meat for breakfast and that is what I like too. I often get a fat scrap to tide me over until they almost forget to feed me in the evening. I really need to unionize or file a complaint about that one. I am on watch at this point. The girly one is up and I am a shepherd. I will protect her from anyone that drives into the courtyard that needs my scolding. Warning: “come near and I will eat you!” or at least it’s going to sound like it when you come near. That’s just the way it goes with bigger pups like yours truly.
11:00 a.m. Now where did she go? Hey, it’s still puppy play time! What about me? Sish. She’s gone back to the unknown zone in the back where I am not allowed to roam. Things get really quiet when she is back there. She’s still got that fake fur light blue coat on so maybe she is taking her own post-breakfast nap. Humans! Who can figure them out? Better believe that she will reappear if my barking is convincing enough. Hmmmmm. I could mess with her on this one a bit. And maybe I have . . . .
2 or 3 or 4:00 p.m. If she is still here and hasn’t left me stranded in my boring dog zone in the kitchen, the girly one is back. Yes! That means it’s time to go outside if I haven’t gone earlier. Sometimes she makes me wait a long time. Good thing I’m not on a potty schedule or anything. Gotta time these slurps of day-old water just right. (Not that I mind day-old water. Mud puddle, bird bath, pond scum, water dish are all the same to me!) If I am really cute maybe she will play with me a little longer or take me for a ride in the giant metal pet carrier on wheels. Well I am just going to sit here with my ball beyond the property line where she has tossed it and give her my best silhouette. It’s kind of like being obedient. She doesn’t know that it is a game with me. Who wins is the one who gets to play longer. If I come back right away after squirting the grass then she will usually toss the ball for me a couple more times. Win-win. I’m a dog and I’m not concerned about her afternoon appointments. It’s play time!
7-9:00 p.m. Rarely do I get to go anywhere in the evening unless short stuff takes me for a walk. When she grabs that black leash I am in heaven! Otherwise if they have stranded me for the day, it’s nearly dark when my peeps return with bags of stuff that rarely contains food for me. What a waste! Take me with you next time! I’ll sniff out the best deals! Oh well. At least they take me for a bathroom run again and let me run around the yard a bit before dark. The winter time is best for this when that white stuff is on the ground. I LIVE FOR SNOW! The big guy puts on his paw extensions and we go for long slides around my watering hole out back. IT’S THE BOMB! In the warmer months I get to do pretty much whatever I want while either the tall dude is pushing a buzzing snack shaver around my yard or the shorter one is digging up stuff, playing with my watering wand, or kicking me out of bunny sniffing zones. Paws are better for digging dontcha know and I have an underground condo to prove it! Alas, I love being outside. It’s where I was born and where I belong. However I’d really rather be with these oddballs without fur (except the big guy who has a wimpy version compared to me) so I go in when I am called. It’s my duty as their pup!
10:00 p.m. My masters sit and eat in front of me and never feed me from the table. What a rip off! It’s not like I can’t smell it you know! Later when they remember that I am hungry too (I am not just being cute: I am trying to tell you something!), they dump some more MRE rations in my bowl. Hey throwing it on the floor would be more fun really. Whatever. When the girly one gives me some skin, as in chicken skin, I am in heaven. This when I know I am truly alive. Then they wrestle with me and I pretend to chew on their paws. Yeah, they really love me. Even if they cut back on the tartar control mix they call dinner, to keep me a lean, mean, fighting machine — I don’t mind. The rabbits get a better run when I have a waist don’t you know?
11:00 p.m. At last. More dog time with my master. Oh the girly one thinks she has my heart cause she pets me when we are home alone or up late at night. Yeah but it’s the big dude that sets me straight and that is cool with me. I get a little wild sometimes in my canine heart that wants to run freeeeeeeee! His discipline is firm. This is how I know he loves me and wants to protect me as much as I want to protect him. I don’t really want to get squashed in the street you know as I chase the kids on their bikes. Maybe it looks like I don’t know what I am doing? That is not the case. I am a smart German shepherd and I am always on alert don’t you know. Just watch me sitting at the edge of the yard sometimes, placing my furry tush between them and any potentially offending intruder. One false move and I will let them know who is boss. Well, at least my bark will say that I am da boss!
Wee hours of the a.m. This is a strange time in my den. The girly one has been up with me until nearly daylight for the past 2 years. Sometimes I hear her crying in distress and it breaks my puppy heart. I am worried about her and I know she sees it in my face. The look is good for a scratch behind the ears too. “Puppy therapy” she calls it when I see her a little later. Whew! I sigh with relief that she’s o.k. I don’t know how she does it every night. Maybe she will get better and sleep more like me. I think it’s starting to happen but I can’t be sure. It’s a dog’s life and I live in the moment. Besides, dozing, sleeping, listening with my eyes closed is a full-time job you know. She used to do stuff outside our den most days of the week. Oh well. For now she’s here with me, most days and every night and I love her. The big guy is pretty cool too. He is rough with me and I like it. Such a nice blend. They make a great couple. Oh well. What do I know?
I’m just a dog and this is my story. Elle.
Jesus is for the Wounded 
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