Desk and Storage Space

I can close up the mess in an instant.  The armoire was originally purchased for storage in a condo we rented when we moved to Nashville.  The room had no closet and I got tired of seeing Jim’s office stuff scattered all over.  By the way, he has a room of his own.

The Tangible Muses

Hawaiian pool boy and Sherlock Holmes.  What more could a writer want?

Hemingway had a six-toed cat whose descendants populate Key West.  I have three cats with normal feet who will never have descendants.  This is Charlie.

Barbara empties my wastebasket and taps my elbow – frequently.  The trunk on the left came from Marshall’s.  It holds “stuff” I need for quick reference.  Otherwise, everything would be on the floor. for Oliver’s amusement.  He loves to tear paper.

Oliver, my third cat, prefers sleeping on the bed.  He is easily confused with Charlie.  Occasionally I have to see them together to tell them apart.

Book Wall

Jim built and hung (hanged?) these boxes.  Still have room to add more boxes if necessary.  They make organizing books easy.

I like college-ruled marble composition books for everyday writing.  Office Depot puts them on sale for 99 cents in late July, early August, and in January.

I’m considering moving out the bed and putting in a large table because I manage to spread papers everywhere.  Stay tuned.

As I scrolled through my Facebook page the comments by friends and friends of friends struck me as quite funny.  They reminded me of a skit a radio station did in Charlotte, NC when I was a teenager.  “An ameba was spotted east of Charlotte on Highway 74.”  Listeners that had a clue called the station and reported other ameba sightings and the reports were broadcast.  Otherwise there was a minor panic in town and the station apologized the next day.

The blizzard may or may not occur.  However, the comments on Facebook are worth reading.  The identities of the posters are omitted to protect their privacy.

Starting to feel very hopeful.  Come on phone, bring me some happy news.

One woman’s hopeful is another woman’s despair!  I was just getting in the “yay! kids are back in school” groove and getting my house tidied from the Christmas break.

Our school is already canceled for tomorrow and the first snowflake has not even fallen

I don’t want a snow day.

Alabama is now closed for the winter.  See y’all on Tuesday at the latest.

Just got the call – Lauderdale County Schools closed tomorrow…. And not a snowflake in the sky yet.  LOL!  I TOLD you that’s how it would go down!

Jersey schools called at 6PM to say that there would be a half day of school on Friday, then called again at 5 am to cancel…… once again wish we were in Alabama…

Gov. Riley declares State of Emergency in Alabama www.waff.com

Florence Walmart is out of milk.  Shocking, I know.

Wilson Dam is closed

Snowing now in B’ham and Hamilton–moving our way. The hospitals are asking staff to come in early and to bring clothes for 3 days plus bedrolls.

Was scheduled to go to work at 5:30, but is very glad to hunker down for the evening because of the snow and ice.

Snow is reported to hit Franklin around midnight. Franklin Streets crews will be in before the snow begins to fall to load salt trucks and hit the primary and secondary streets throughout the night. Up to 5 inches is expected by Williamson County Emergency Management.

Waiting to get stuck at work because of the snowpocolypse….

The book is “We Are All Writers: How to Use Your Journal to Cure Writer’s Block Now,” by Mari L. McCarthy. It’s in PDF format and downloadable. Ms. McCarthy walks the reader through five exercises in ten pages. Each exercise has more powerful results than the one before it.

The nice thing about the book is that it has applications beyond overcoming writer’s block. Journaling is good for one’s mental health, which can improve physical health. If you think you might want to journal but don’t know where to start, check out the website.  And for Pete’s sake, get the free book!

One pole holds a hummingbird feeder, and the other two hold feeders filled with sunflower seeds and a sock filled with thistle.

A mixed up hairy woodpecker visited them all and decided he really needed a sugar fix.  Somehow he managed to hold on to the perch and suck down nectar.

Occasionally he goes to the feeder with the sunflower seeds.  He pulls out seeds and throws them on the ground for the chipmunks.

The surprising thing is that he often perched on our wooden “poles” and showed no interest in engaging in normal woodpecker behavior.  The only time we heard a woodpecker noise was when a pileated one checked our utility pole for bugs.

The precipitating event is my recent adventure as an inmate at Vanderbilt Medical Center in Nashville.  VMC is a world-class institution and I can’t say enough good things about the quality of care given.  Meals – well, that’s another story.

The reason for my “incarceration” was a low platelet count.  Low, as in only one-fifth of the necessary minimum.  The condition is known as thrombocytopenia.  If it comes from an unknown cause, then it’s called idiopathic thrombocytopenia.  Idiopathic is another word for “clueless,” as in – I have a daughter who is idiopathic about sports, but she is photogenic.  I, on the other hand, am not photogenic, but am un-idiopathic about sports.

My reason for entering Internet Medical College (IMC) at the University of Google is to become a better medical consumer.  Learning why neutrophils, basophils, and eosinophils are significant helps me do that.  What I’ve learned so far is that neutrophils and platelets are important.  So I have neutropenia and thrombocytopenia – two penia.  Oh!   The jokes I could make about that!

If you don’t have enough platelets, your doctor calls you on a Saturday morning and says, “Get thee to the ER or your head might explode.”  Okay, I added the part about the exploding head, but he did say that if the platelets drop any lower, then spontaneous bleeding was possible.  If it happened in my head, I would have a very bad day.  At that time, my platelet count was even lower than the one-fifth of minimum.  I learned that putting blood in a test tube with sodium citrate as a medium raises your platelet count.  It sounds like cheating on a blood test.

So I spent most of the day in the ER with groups of people coming by, asking questions, and saying, “Mmmm.”  When doctors say, “Mmmm,” it means they’re idiopaths because my answers to their questions were wrong as a diagnostic tool.  Since VMC is a teaching institution, the residents (who, by the way, do have adult supervision) have to work harder at developing a diagnosis.  When they finally admit to being completely stumped, they declare idiopathy and tag out to another department.  In my case, that’s hematology.  Stay tuned for the next class at IMC.

Imagine my surprise when I found out I just purchased ten yoga classes.  Not a bad thing, mind you, but a far cry from a cool and refreshing dessert.  Basic yoga – how hard can that be?  Yoga is a civilized exercise system.  The most important thing, as it is with any activity, is to have a cute outfit.  Outfit and mat purchased, I showed up for the first class last week.

Soothing music played in the background as our instructor introduced us to poses.  No jumping, running in place, or flapping arms.  No sweat.  Ha!  You could have refilled the Dead Sea seven times with what poured off me in that hour.

Being a vehement anti-exercise person for many years, my center of gravity shifted.  Whatever part is in the air wants to come down.  So there I was, hands and feet on the mat, butt in the air, and she said, “Lift your right leg.”  I learned that not only is gravity not my friend, but I’m also asymmetrical.  Balancing on three appendages is physically impossible.  Gently lowering myself to the floor can’t happen either.  The earth’s gravitational pull is too strong.  Had my mat not been extra thick, I would have cracked three ribs.

Second class was last night and I learned that yoga class is like church.  You have to get there early to find a spot on the back row.  Did I mention that I’m by far the oldest person in the class?  Young, trim bodies and me.  Oy ve.  Only eight to go!

After the great flood of May 2, 2010, we’ve had lots of cloudy days with high humidity.  And there has been even more rain, although not the 18 inches we got in early May.  Sunshine at 7 am consistently turned to overcast by ten o’clock.  Add high humidity, and you have an unpleasant May and early June.

Not today.  Sunshine early lasted all day.  Now it’s after 5 pm (CDT) and no clouds are in sight.  A breeze, low humidity, and birds singing in the woods make sitting on the patio a pleasure.  I also don’t regret not being eaten by mosquitoes.  It’s a great day in the neighborhood!

Today, I’m glad to say that Charlie has recovered from his adventure.  His weight is back up, the fur on his throat has grown back, and he no longer has a vacant look in his eyes.  Recovery was slow.  He spent a lot of time sleeping under the dining room table or in someone’s lap.

Now he can hold his own when Oliver wants to wrestle.  Sometimes Charlie even initiates the matches.  He and Barbara don’t seem as close as they once were, but having added Oliver to our family while he was gone changed the dynamics for everyone.  Now one cat has to wait for a turn on a lap.

Life is good.

Bourke writes from the perspective of a married mother who had a successful career as a publishing executive and newspaper columnist.  Around the age of fifty she realized that all of her success and million frequent flyer miles were not as satisfying as they once were, thus, the subtitle, “Find Passion and Purpose for the Rest of Your Life.”

Bourke contends that looking for a life’s purpose becomes a significant quest as we age.  Success at age 60 is not measured by the same standard as success at age 30.  She gave up her business ventures and looked for ways to make a difference in the lives of others, especially women in Africa.  Her journey reminded me of that of Tom Monaghan, founder of Domino’s Pizza, and Bill Gates, founder of Microsoft Corporation.  Both men left their corporate boardrooms and are using their wealth to make a difference in the world.

Through World Vision, Bourke continues to make numerous trips to Africa and listens to women as they describe life when one is living with AIDS while trying to raise children.  Bourke uses her business skills to develop support channels for these women.  She feels that the passion she has for helping is her second calling from God.  Prayer and listening for God’s leading is part of her daily routine.

As I said earlier, I didn’t expect to like this book because I was sure it would be filled with admonitions to support my husband totally and sappy scriptural references to prove this was God’s way.  I related to much of what Bourke said about changing priorities and finding dissatisfaction with “stuff.”  And I even related to God’s place in the process.

My only concern is that Bourke writes from the point of view of someone who has the financial resources to make such a drastic change in her life.  Furthermore, she has a supportive husband.  I wonder if the average single mother, administrative assistant , could afford to pursue her passion in the same manner.  Would she see her life as not meeting deeper needs?  If so, how will she embrace her second calling?

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from Thomas Nelson Publishers as part of their BookSneeze.com <http://BookSneeze.com> book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 <http://www.access.gpo.gov/nara/cfr/waisidx_03/16cfr255_03.html> : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

I have some ideas:

We can send a man to the moon, but we can’t take a shower without making soap scum.

We can send a man to the moon, but we can’t use weed and feed fertilizer without killing the stuff we want to grow.

There has to be something to go into the manufacture of bath and shower soaps that repels soap scum.  If dishwashers have a rinse aid, why isn’t there something in soap suds that keeps everything moving down the drain?

As for the weed and feed, all it takes is an instrument that analyzes the DNA of the weed.  The instrument disburses the weed and feed, which kills only the plant material whose DNA is locked in the analyzer.  Everything else that gets squirted  is fed.  That would have helped when Jim put weed and feed too close to the drop line of a palm tree in our backyard in Houston.  He claimed the tree was dormant, but no one bought it.