Every Day

I think I may be the only girl in all of America who does not like Valentine’s Day. It just feels so contrived to me. I mean yes, I love flowers and chocolates and date nights etc, but it means so much more if it’s done not out of expectation but out of the desire to make a person happy.

It all appears so perfunctory to me; flowers, dinner out, chocolate. How about flowers on a Tuesday in April? Or a card in July, for no reason but to express love?

That means so much more than the obligated, box of chocolates in my opinion. In fact, you know what’s really sexy to me? A man who gets up at oh dark hundred every day, no matter how tired he is and goes to work for his family. A man who makes an effort to call his mom and keep in touch. A man who brings his daughters a flower on their birthdays. A man who tells me he loves me with great regularity and no prompting. A man who makes sure the family car is always running and who checks the locks everynight before he goes to bed because he knows I always forget.

I don’t need a special day once a year to know what a great thing I have. So while I appreciate the history behind St. Valentine, I don’t need my husband to bring me chocolates or flowers one day a year to show me how much me loves me. He shows me every day.

Hello, Roxanne!

My cordless house phone has started doing something odd. It has started picking up a local radio station. We’ve had this cordless house phone for many years and I don’t recall ever hearing the radio in the background before now. We’ve not had a recent installation of a radio tower next to our house so I am not quite sure why, all of a sudden, I’m hearing music from my phone.

Honestly, at first I didn’t catch it. I thought those I was talking too had music playing in the background. It’s not loud, but it’s definitely there. Then I realized it odd that everyone I had talked to in the last few days had been listening to music, and even stranger than that, they had all been listening to the same station.

That is when it dawned on me that it was probably my phone. I picked up when no one was on the other end of the line and sure enough, radio.

This has gone from slightly annoying to downright distracting lately. I think it’s getting louder, and the music selection leaves something to be desired.

I was having this very distracting conversation with my Mother in Law yesterday…

Hi, Tricia.

Roxanne! You don't have to put on the red light.

Hi MIL,

Those days are over you don't have to sell you body to the night.

So are your and Sir D going to K & E’s baptism this Sunday?

Roxanne! You don't have to wear that dress tonight.

OF course! We wouldn’t miss it!

Walk the streets for money you don't care if it's wrong or if it's right.

Oh, wonderful, do you think FIL and I could ride with you?

Roxanne! You don't have to put on the red light.

Sure.

I loved you since I knew you. I wouldn't talk down to you.

Are you staying for the lunch afterwards?

I have to tell you just how I feel; I won't share you with another boy.

Yes, but we’ll have to leave pretty quickly after the lunch because of AWANA.

I know my mind is made up, so put away your makeup.

Oh, yes, sure. That will work for us.

Told you once I won't tell you again, It's a bad way.

It is so exciting that K & E are getting baptized isn’t it?

ROOOOOXANNE! You don't have to put on the red light!

Um, yes it is. I can’t wait for Sunday.

ROOOOOXANNE! You don't have to put on the red light!

Are you okay? You sound a little distracted?

ROOOOOXANNE! You don't have to put on the red light!

Yeah, yeah, fine. We’ll see you on Sunday.

ROOOOOXANNE! You don't have to put on the red light!

Okay, well, bye now.

ROOOOOXANNE! You don't have to put on the red light!

Yeah, Bye.

Lawsey Mercy! I’ve got to get a new phone. That was downright disturbing.

Where are my overactive white blood cells when I need them?

The blog’s been a little quiet lately because I’m sick. I HATE sick. I am rarely sick. I know , I know you are all thinking, strange hip pain\fibromyalgia\Primary Sjögren’s Syndrome anyone? See, those are all auto immune disorders, (and I don’t actually have Fibromyalgia, that was a misdiagnosis!) which is my white blood cells on crack attacking everything in its site whether it is good or bad. So, I rarely catch a cold or get the stomach bug. (Murphy’s Law states, after a statement like that, I’ll be vomiting by tomorrow)

I have a head cold to end all head colds. Even the nasal irrigator cannot help me now. It is simply impossible to get the saline solution up my nose. There is no room, filled as it is with, well, snot.

My throat hurts and is raw, my head is full, my nose is completely useless to me except to double as a faucet (how is it possible to be so stuffed up you can’t breathe and have snot running out of your nose at a constant drip at the same time I ask you?! It should be a physical impossibility!) and as if that were not enough, It has moved into my eyes and I now have pink eye.

Oh, Joy. I love pink eye. It is ever so ladylike to have eyes that look like I was out on a bender all night.

And today is my day to drive carpool downtown, sit for 2 hours in a waiting room, then drive back. That is going to be fun.

Oh, and on a happy note (because aren’t you totally depressed after reading that?) we paid off or Excursion yesterday!!! I LOVE being debt free! Of course, we’re on our way next weekend to buy our camper, so the debt free feeling will only last a little over a week, but I’ll enjoy in none the less.

Breaking News!

Did you see those pigs fly by? Do you feel the freezing air coming up though the crevices in the ground?

Yes, my friends I intentionally if not forcibly put salt water up my nose. I, the same girl who was teased mercilessly for holding my nose closed before even entering the water slide at Hurricane Harbor as a teen. The same girl who won’t go anywhere near the deep end without something securing my nostrils closed. And yet, after much prodding and cajoling from my friend S, I caved. I think it had something to do with utter desperation at my lack of ability to breathe.

Now, the nasal irrigator is not magic. I still have a whopper of a headache and overall feel lousy, but I can once again breathe through my nose, and that is almost worth intentionally inserting water into my nasal passageways.

So S, while I am not yet a convert. I am willing to try. Who would have ever thought such a thing would occur? Apparently nothing is impossible. Perhaps I should start working on the whole Israeli, Palestinian thing.

Just because I'm up at 4 does not make me a morning person!

It is 4 in the morning and I am awake. I sit in the living room illuminated only by the light of a candle and listen to the sound of the rain. I could wax poetic I suppose about the pitter patter of the rain or what a surprising amount of light one lone candle can produce in a still night darkened room. But I won’t because I’ve not had any coffee and I suspect when I do actually wake up sometime later today, I will find my words silly. And I won’t be drinking any coffee yet this morning, because I still hold out hope that my body will allow me a few more blessed hours of sleep sometime today.

I’m not sure why I’m awake. I suppose it has something to do with my utter inability to breathe. When the mountain cedar trees spew their evil pollen into the air really everyone suffers, but for some reason I am suffering more this year than I have in a long time. Mountain cedar is kicking me when I am down. Stinking mountain cedar.

I am also in a significant amount of pain. I have not noticed much benefit from the meds yet. Mostly I feel lousy, but last Tuesday I had a good day. I had minimal pain and had a little more energy than usual. I believe brighter days are ahead. In the meantime I take it one breath at a time. Literally.

Yesterday, when I was cutting up all the veggies and frying the meat for tacos, I sneezed about every 30 seconds. I was grossing myself out. Surely this has to be against some health code, right? I should not have been cooking! I am totally using that excuse today.

And by the way, it is not lost on me that my last post was about not being a morning person. If I believed in Fate I might be tempted to think she was messing with me.

A Morning Person I am Not.

I believe I have mentioned that I am not a morning person. My mornings usually go something like this. First I start making my way to awareness because someone is making some noise and turning on lights in the bathroom and the closet. First, I realize that man making noise must be husband, so I must be married. Then I realize he is getting dressed in fancy duds so it must be a weekday. Then I ask myself, should I be getting up too? What day is it? That is the hardest one. Usually at this point I am a bit more cognizant and can come up with what yesterday was. This morning for instance I realized it was Friday and thus not a day I had to get up. Oh Happy Friday! Then my mind starts going over what I have to do today.

It is at this point I remember that I have children. Children whom I have chosen to educate at home, though for the life of me, at 6ish in the morning I cannot fathom why I would have made this choice.

Sir D comes over and kisses me good-by. I must often have a confused look on my face because he usually chuckles and tells me he’ll call me later. (he knows coherent speech is not a viable option before I’ve had coffee)

And now’s the time for honesty. Once Sir D leaves and the lights are out again. I lie back down and fall back asleep. Eventually sometime between 7:30 and 8 I begin to hear the children downstairs getting breakfast and the whole process of waking up begins again; though because I’ve already done it once it’s a bit quicker process.

I make my way downstairs to my offspring with ALL THE VOICES and have some coffee. Copious amounts of coffee. Then and only then am I me; intelligent (work with me here!) woman capable of educating her children and keeping a house. Sadly it takes me until almost 9 am to reach this state of readiness.

Then around 9:30 Sir D calls me to say good morning, because he knows now I am awake and remember who I am and can speak in complete sentences.

Some Beauty

Morning Song

There’s a mellower light just over the hill,
And somewhere a yellower daffodil,
And honey, somewhere, that’s sweeter still.

And some were meant to stay like a stone,
Knowing the things they have always know,
Sinking down deeper into their own.

But some must follow the wind and me,
Who like to be starting and like to be free,
Never so glad as we’re going to be!
~ Karle Wilson Baker

I love the above poem. It describes my husband so beautifully. He is always ready for the next thing, the next adventure. Always ready to follow the wind and be free.

I am a sinking down deeper into their own kinda girl. Sir D has been dragging me with him on his adventures for 18 wonderful years now. I can't imagine how deep I would have sunk into myself without him to pull me around on his search for the yellower daffodil.

Strange Days Here on the Hilltop

Let me set the scene. The girls and I are sitting around the table diligently working on important and edifying tasks, or eating breakfast while I was on FaceBook, whatever. Bob was in his room dismantling his intricate stereo set up. I don’t know why, he just does these things from time to time. I can always tell he’s doing it because it sounds like someone is dismantling a small car in there. After a while the noises stopped and I heard his door open.

He walked into kitchen holding up a small baggie. Those living on the dark side might refer to this as a dime bag, though I’m pretty sure the actual monetary cost of this item is somewhat higher than a dime.

The little baggy, covered in dust and dirt, held what appeared to me to be not very well ground oregano. Because I am highly intelligent, I figured there was little to no reason someone would hide a baggie of oregano in their speakers, so it was probably something more potent and less legal than oregano.

We all stood around the kitchen table, in our pj’s, examining a bag of, you know. I have to tell you this is a situation in which I never expected to find myself.

“Is that what I think it is, Mom?”

“Um, yeah, I think it is what you think it is, Bob”

“What? What is it? What is it, Mom?” Ann says over and over.

Silent confusion from Eve.

It is at this point that the homeschooling mother began warring with the upstanding citizen who likes to, you know, not break the law.

Do we open it up and examine it? How cool would that be? We could look at under a microscope. “We’ll probably never get the chance to examine weed again!” says Homeschooling Me.

“Are you nuts? This stuff is illegal! The police are probably on their way to take you and you offspring to jail right now! GET RID OF IT!” shouts the Law Abiding Me.

Eventually, Cowardly Me won out and we stuck it on top of the refrigerator to ask Sir D about when he gets home. That is my life’s motto after-all. Let Sir D Figure It Out.

The most amusing thing about this story, even more amusing than a homeschooling family contemplating using not-quite-oregano as a science experiment, is the fact that the speakers the baggie of contraband was found in, was originally donated to the mission organization across the street! I guess they donated a little more than they intended too.





***I thought I should mention, lest there are any, oh say, DEA agents that read my blog, that the oregano was properly disposed of down the toilet, and is no longer on the premises.***

Bleck!

Today is my anniversary and I feel like vomiting. The two are, happily enough, unrelated. Sir D and I are celebrating 18 years of happily ever after. Though not really. Today is the official day, but we’re going to celebrate in a couple of weeks when we’re going away for the weekend.

I feel like vomiting because the new medicine I’m on for the Strange Sounding Sjörgren Syndrome (heretofore known as SSSS) makes me nauseous. And tired. Very tired. And dizzy. And lightheaded. Also, it makes me allergic to laundry. Kidding, wish that were true. Also, it takes 2 to 6 months to be effective. So right now, the cure is worse than the disease. I am hoping that changes. Soon.

Cautiously Optimistic

It’s 5 am on a Saturday and I am awake. Sick and twisted I tell you. Most days it’s all I can do to drag my tired self out of bed to say goodbye to Sir D and guzzle some coffee before I have to start educating my offspring. But today? When I can sleep in without the guilt? I’m awake.

I woke up because of the joint pain, you know, because I’m 80. And allergies. I was drowning, it was gross, I will say no more. I also woke up with a strange sort of supercharged feeling in my body, similar to that feeling you get when your foot falls asleep and is finally regaining feeling. Weird.

I’m sure it’s the new meds I’m on. I’ve had a new round of tests and they think they’ve found something.

When I went in to see the rheumatologist last month because Sir D made me, I was just in pain everywhere. You should see me trying to make it up the stairs, it’s pathetic. When this dr did an extensive exam and x-rays and what not, he said to me that he didn’t know what this was yet, though he had his suspicions, but he knew what it was not. It was not Fibromyalgia. I was told several years ago that that is what it was. All the treatments I have tried for FMS have not worked. AT. ALL.

Perhaps that is why.

So I went in yesterday to get all my results. Apparently my blood tests came back positive for Sjögren syndrome. I was quite surprised and I think the dr was too. We both thought it was Rheumatoid Arthritis. I’ve been tested for RA several times, always negative, but apparently sometimes people test in the negative for RA when they actually do have it. There are other tests you can do to confirm it. We did those other tests and it was not RA. Turns out it’s some strange, weird named syndrome I’d never heard of.

The dr seemed quite pleased. He felt like this is a treatable disease and that I will be feeling much better soon. Pardon my skepticism, but this is not my first rodeo. I’ve been told this by several doctors before. “We’ll figure it out.” “We’ll keep working until we get you better.” “We can fix this.” And every time I have not responded to their treatment.

Now, I guess this time, there is something that finally showed up in a blood test (I saw the numbers on the little chart!) not just some doctor guessing about what is going on because of a total lack of anything to go by in my test results, so that is positive.

I’m on a new medicine and was able to discard some of the other unsuccessful treatments I’d previously been using. This new drug is a little out there for me, but if it works, I’ll be singing its praises. The way the drug works is that it attacks and kills the white blood cells that are the bad ones attacking the soft tissue lining of my joints and other glands and organs and stuff (how's that for medical jargon!), but not the white blood cells that are doing what they are supposed to do. How can the little white pill that I put in my mouth and swallow, differentiate between the good and the bad white blood cells? All very Star Trek.

So when I woke up this morning, all my joints aching and this weird supercharged feeling throughout my body I couldn’t help but imagine this little white pill running throughout my body, sword in hand, slaying the evil white blood cells.

Maybe I should lay off the wine before I go to bed.