OPPOSITION IN ALL THINGS

I'll admit that I am getting older. In fact, I HATE it when people my age (52 and counting) are called 'middle-aged.' I have no wish to live to be 104 (scares me to death to see a Barbara Walters special advertising about how we can all live to be 150), so I'm okay being simply old.

And I will agree that my back/spine/muscles attached are long past their prime, if they ever had a prime. I have developed highly complex methods to deal with large loads (ie sliding, walking, one bag at a time, playing the helpless female when a macho man is around), and so have not strained it in quite a long time.

So I have no idea what happened to it on Saturday. At breakfast, it was a little stiff - when I got home with a truck load of hay, it was beginning to hurt enough that I put off unloading the hay until after a nap - and then after the nap, could not get out of bed by myself.

Could it be a curse? My cat was very excited to have me confined to be bed (more attention paid to him as I struggled to not have him take over the entire area). But my husband was extrememly exasperated to have to unload, and take care of, ALL the groceries. My dog has been standing guard at the foot of my bed, while the greyhound keeps whining at the door (she is not allowed inside). And my horse keeps whinning for me - that pitiful 'no one is paying attention to me, I'm not getting fed enough, and when are the carrots gonna come my way?' (can you tell this lap-pet is spoiled rotten?)

I just want to be all better THIS VERY SECOND... and it ain't gonna happen that way (never does). I've been sitting at the computer for almost thirty minutes, and am going to have to crawl back to bed for a couple of hours to recover since all my muscles are seizing up back there.

So, don't weep for me, but any extra prayers would be appreciated... that is, after praying for all the people who REALLY need help, not just grumpy old women who are temporarily not able to do everything they want to do.

SPEED LIMIT

Today it was reinforced (once again) that there is a reason I keep the speed limit. I mean, I drive right at the speed limit. Like driving 25 miltes per hour when the sign says 25 miles per hour. I drive quite a few people (to include my daughter and my son) completely crazy, and have probably caused more than my share of accidents (since people seem obligated to pass me at whatever risk).

But this afternoon, I got distracted (a wonderful call from my aforementioned daughter, and simply having a nice chill), and didn't realize I was running late for an appointment in Benson at 2:00 p.m. until I left the house, and noticed that it was, yes, 1:10 p.m. For those of you unfamiliar with the area with which I live, I live twenty minutes south of a town which is about forty-five minutes south of Benson. So add 20 + 45 to 1:10 ... carry the five... square root of 37.... well, whatever, it ends up being I had to be there in less time than I actually had in reality.


So, for once in my life (well, actually, maybe the third time - I remember going a little over the speed limit when I was following the car that contained my daughter - yes, the same one - was in labor with her first child - and I'm pretty certain I speed a little when I was drving myself to the hospital to give birth to my third child) I decided that I would do what every other driver in the United States does automatically - drive five miles an hour OVER the speed limit.


So I did - and I got there on time. I didn't get stopped by a cop. I didn't get a speeding ticket.

But, MAN, am I feeling SO GUILTY.


It's just easier for me to keep the law, and not have to worry about it.


Except when someone is having a baby.

THE ULTIMATE IN RUDENESS

I haven’t thought of myself as germ-aphobic. I deal with a lot of messes with horses and dogs and outdoor junk; I don’t normally have trouble shaking hands or hugging someone (although now I am making a point of NOT shaking with my right hand, only my left; the middle finger, which was ‘not broken’ according to the X-ray, still hurts like heck).

But my husband is coughing - a LOT - with off-and-on congestion (and actually an on-and-off cough; if he’s interested in something, he doesn’t cough at all). And I don’t think he realizes that I am washing my hands EVERY single time I touch him or he touches me - and I’m taking alcoholic wipes with reckless abandonment to everything he touches.

I don’t think it’s germs; it’s being told more than ONCE that I will not survive another bout of pneumonia. I probably will die of some respiratory complication (my lungs are a third of the size of a normal person’s, and I’m allergic to just about everything that could help when I do get pneumonia). While the idea doesn’t enthrall me (suffocation seems to be an extremely undignified way to die), I’ve come to terms with it.

But getting sick, and possibly dying, from simply being around someone bothers the heck out of me. It’s just rude, for one thing. I fully approve of my lap-horse (accidentally, of course) killing me some day by sitting in my lap. I am fine with jumping off the edge of the Grand Canyon and enjoying the 35 second drop - of course, I am terrified enough of heights that I don’t think I will ever get close enough to the edge to do anything so dramatic - and of course with it being carried live on NBC, CNN and two PBS channels in Phoenix.

The likelihood, of course, is that I will probably live another decade or two, and die when I accidentally trip over the power cord to my vacuum and fall into an open can of Diet Coke and drown. Another reason to stay away from cleaning and remain caffine-free (I’ve been clean over a week now, but man, is it tough to drive past MacDonald’s on my way into town and not get my Super-Size drink),

But, hey, I got a super grand-biggie Double Chocolate Frappacino deal at Starbucks today (although I always feel like I am doing something illegal; I mean, a Mormon ordering something at Starbucks? What if my bishop passes by? It is inside our Target) - so I am already going back to my 'evil' ways?

Okay, Diet Coke tomorrow! ;-)

TODAY IS ONE OF THOSE

Today is the type of day that make people move to Arizona. It's incredibly bright and sunny, but with a cool breeze, and it's early enough in the year that it's still pretty cold in the shadows.

Either this type of day was captured perfectly on some sort of holographic tape, which has since been distributed throughout the Midwest and any state north of the Mason-Dixon line, or simply by chance on a day such as today every single person who is currently living in a(n):
a) flooded flood zone,
b) area that just got over eleven inches of snow since March 1st, and/or
c) any path of a tornado, blizzard, hurricane and/or tropical storm,
has either come to Arizona, had a family member visit Arizona, or saw a news story on how nice it was in Arizona today while it was snowing/flooding/hurricaning elsewhere.

Would you like to hear information about the land prices in Montana?

CHICKEN LITTLE: "A WILDFIRE! A WILDFIRE!"

People in business are (usually) out to make money (some notable exceptions; when I worked for the Hawaii Heart Association, it was my job to SPEND money). So on television, the advertisments/teasers/leads are all designed to keep you glued to that station/channel so you then see the ads which are paying for the show.

I can understand and accept that.

What I CANNOT understand and/or accept is having a newsbroadcast ad at 8:30 p.m. saying - "Major Wildfire Threatens Bisbee - Story at 10 p.m." Listen, I LIVE sixteen miles from Bisbee, and that sixteen miles contains is a lot of empty land with fairly dry brush and sage grasses. So I sort of sat up and took notice... but then, of course, had to wait until 10 to find out more - which was their intention, obviously.

Turns out 55 acres of brush had burned the top of one of the canyons behind Old Bisbee. Now, to put this in perspective, most of our wildfires in Arizona cover THOUSANDS of acres. And the only reason the fire went on burning long enough for a newsteam to get down there was because the area was rugged enough that the fire department were only able to use only air-drops of retardent.

Yes, it was a fire. It affected people in Bisbee. But it is NOT FAIR to scare ME... especially at ten o'clock at night, after watching "Lost" and NOT having any ice cream to comfort-eat (you have to take all factors into consideration).

So - should I sue Channel 9 news for serious emotional distress and unfilled and unnessary caloric intake? And if so, does anyone know of a good lawyer?

ARGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH

Don't you just hate when someone ELSE does something rude and mean to you, and THEN takes the attitude of being the injured party?

Some times it's completely exhausting - anticipation, fear, worry. And other times it's simply a matter of taking a couple of deep breathes, realizing it's not really directed at me - and then I can deal with it just fine.

It's also helps to stop and count all the fantastic things that are going RIGHT in my life.

APRIL 1957 VS MAY 1956

I know, I know, you're as old/young as you feel. But after six straight hours of being waitress/busboy/assistant cook/dishwasher/gossipee (hey, did I just invent another new word?), I feel a hundred million billion centuries old. Maybe even a couple of days more than that.

But then when I discover the owner of the place where I spent afore-mentioned six straight hours is almost exactly one year YOUNGER than I am....

Well, she handled six straight hours of cooking much better than I did with my chores. But she has obviously had a lot more hard years than I have had. But it's still sobering to realize, man, I must getting up there in years and probably AM a hundred million billion centuries to some of the young people I know. I do know I can get away with flirting with much younger guys, because they do NOT take me seriously. I have the wrinkles and laugh-lines, and am finally catching up with the grey hair.

So concentrate on the good stuff, concentrate on the good stuff... you're only as old as you feel, you're only as old as you feel....

And now that the television has switched over to 'paid programming', and two grey OLD looking dudes are taking about 'the beginnings of soft rock' WAY BACK in the 70's when THEIR bank debuted.... it's time for me to go to bed... and rest my OLD bones/

(I think I just had a heart attack - my second child called to say good-night, and asked if we could talk some time about BIRTH CONTROL. Don't panic, don't panic, take slow, deep breaths...)

IT'S ALL RELATIVE (AND I DON'T MEAN FAMILY)

By sheer coincidence, I had the opportunity yesterday to talk to a cancer survivor/victim for about an hour. This woman has had Stage Four colon cancer, surgery, and a whole lot of chemo. She is completely bald, has paperly skin that continually itches, very limited mobility - and the happiest person I have met in a month.

Her cancer, although still there, is not progressing as a 'normal' cancer would, but much slower. She has the possibility of maybe a week - maybe a month - maybe a year. No one can be certain.

But this woman is just happy - almost ecstatic. She has been given a very uncertain amount of additional time, and she is (can't believe I am going to be using and expression for an old beer commercial) 'grabbing with gusto' every moment she has, without turning anything into a frenzy. Her kids have all visited, her husband is still working on home improvements, and she is in a recliner watching every single movie she has ever wanted to watch.

And is perfectly happy just to be here for however long she has.

So today I spent a little bit more time petting my animals - a slower walk in and out - a couple of deep breaths - I even stopped and picked up litter on part of a road home.

ALL CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL

I may be unduely biased, because I am reading "Walking In Circles Before Lying Down" by Merrill Markoe, which is about (surprise surprise) dogs. A woman turns to her dog for comfort, but suddenly realizes that she can hear not just her dog, but ALL dogs talking.

It isn't a book I'm gonna recommend to my book club, and the main character is actually pretty stupid about humans (read that boyfriends and ex-husbands and manipulative family members), but it's light reading, and fun to read what a dog may actually say (example: "At the end of the next street was this whippet. I don't usually go for them. Too snitty. But this one was way into me. And she was hot..." - and yes, that's why I'm not recommending it to my book club).

I realize I may be unduely attached to my dog. He continues to amaze me with his forgiveness, willingness to forget (okay, sometimes I wish he could remember SOME things), and great attitude about almost anything.

But I always like having my dog around. I like him. I like his company, and I feel as his 'human', I am the one responsible for his needs (which are easy - a ball to retrieve, food and water, and periodic trips outside).

So I'm not really understanding when another 'adult' repeatedly gets mad at his dog, doesn't want the dog anywhere around him, and gets mad at ME for putting this dog in his room for the night because he was 'doing' something else (reading).

But I also understand how that fits into how this person's limited ability to love anything. It's been a nice period for a couple of months, but it always comes and goes - and it's been around for a longer period than it has in the past, so I shouldn't really complain.

So it helps me be thankful for the great relationships I have with all of my animals (well, Sally has been making breaks for freedom daily, but that's only because the grass of the other side of the fence IS literally greener) and my kids too, come to think of it (though I have to admit the animals are a lot easier most of the time).

(COMPLETELY off the subject: some of the best lines in any movie: "Who are you?" "No one of importance." "I must know." "Get used to disappointment." Can you guess what I am watching since there is nothing worthwhile on TV even with 300+ channels?)

WHOOPS!

I fell off my front porch today.

Wait a minute, that sounds much more dramatic than what actually happened. It’s just a little two-step brick thingie to get you from ground level up to the front door - which makes me guilty under the new hiring-illegal-immigration-you-get-in-trouble laws - it was put together by a Mexican dude, who didn’t speak a word of English - and was working for an American white guy from the company I had asked to do the job (who didn’t do one darn thing but stand around watching).

But I did fall, because I lost my balance ... and maybe because I was carrying two of those long refrigerator twelve-packs of Mountain Dew, and was using one of those to hit the handle and open the door. Yes! Blame the Mt. Dew! I like that.

And when I did feel myself losing my balance, I did attempt a slight version of the tuck-and-roll - which ended up my landing on my shoulder and my hip (yeah, the tuck worked, but at my age, rolling ain’t my thing anymore).

Okay, my shoulder and my big white ass. Which is good, because my bottom obviously had enough padding that my hip wasn’t more than bruised. I fell right on a big bank of the rounded small stones that surround the house (which keep all of our wonderful scrub brush from growing right next to the foundation), so it was hard enough that I did lay there for a moment and felt very sorry for myself.

Until my dog, who is always outside when I am, came rushing and doing the only thing he could do - starting licking my face. Which made me laugh, which then helped me get up and take care of the rest of the groceries.

It was great - when my husband got home, he actually felt kinda sorry for me.

Which didn’t stop him from having me driving to pick=up dinner (these great, huge hamburgers from a restaurant which just reopened about five miles from us - that makes TWO places that serve dinner within, what, twenty miles?). And me still doing the dishes. And taking care of the groceries.

Wait a minute, I guess he really didn’t feel too sorry for me. Should I make bleeding part of it next time?

WEDNESDAY

Okay...
"Monday, Monday" - Mamas and the Papas
"Tuesday Afternoon" - Moody Blues
Then...
"Thursday's Child" - David Bowie
"Friday's Child"- Van Morrison
"Saturday Night" - Elton John
"Sunday Afternoon" - Paul Simon

... does anyone know a song about Wednesday? Is there an evil god who you can only worship on Wednesdays? Or is Wednesday just horrible because it's smack dab in the middle of the week? Do any resturants have 'Wednesday's Special'? Anyone get paid on Wednesdays? Or did Wednesday just come from a bad neighborhood? Bad case of acne? Has an STD that can only be caught on Wednesday? WHAT IS IT?!?!?

Let me know - just forward your comments to "Palominas Mental Health Unit" - thanks.

WHY AM I FEMALE?

After reviewing photos of my darling granddaughter dancing in a park with a tutu on, I am reminded again of all those charming, feminine little quirks.... which I never have had. I think it was an automatic revolt against the pinky, curled, dainty little girl that my mother longed for. Somehow instead of the petite, blond, and girlish, she got a tall, gangly tomboy from day one.

Mind you, I'm very happy to be a women. I mean, men are so... MALE. Limited in understanding, seemingly driven by three basic instincts (I'll let you guess what those are, but yes, you are right, it's those three) and just sort of gross at times (i.e. in private). I love my husband, my son, and my son-in-law - but even they are... well, men.

But I don't like getting dressed up, I HATE shoes, I don't paying any attention to my hair, and the only makeup I wear anymore is mascara. I avoid the color pink like that plauge (although it is a good color for me), I don't go to church meetings that are, well, homemakerish (is that a word?), and my idea of a great meal for guests is bringing Pizza Hut home.

Well, you're probably right - I'm a woman, but just a SLOB (and proud of it!!!!).

WHY ME, WHY ME?!

Last time I was 'asked' to teach Gospel Doctrine, it was for the last five chapters of Revelations. Talk about a heavy lesson.

And now tomorrow I am teaching all the Isaiah scriptures that are in 2 Nephi.

What have I done wrong?