If you're susceptible to ear worms DONT WATCH THIS VIDEO!

I am HOOKED on this...it's been going round 'n' round in my head all week.

But what a darling song it is....

You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. -- Christopher Robin to Pooh

This was sent to me by my friend Mary:

Exercise Your Brain Today

Be sure to stop at the end of each picture before scrolling further.

Read out loud the text in the triangle below:

More than likely you said, 'A bird in the bush,' and.......

If this IS what YOU said, then you failed to see that the word THE is repeated twice! Sorry, look again.

You may not see it at first but the white spaces spell 'optical' and the blue landscape spells 'illusion'. Look again! Can you see why this painting is called an optical illusion?

What do you see here? This one is quite tricky!

The word 'teach' reflects as 'learn'.

What do you see?


You probably read the word 'me' in brown, but when you look thru ME you will see YOU!

Need to look again?







Alzheimer's Eye Test



Count every "f" in the following text:



FINISHED FILES ARE THE RESULT OF YEARS

OF SCIENTIFIC STUDY COMBINED WITH THE EXPERIENCE OF YEARS.



How many?


WRONG...there are 6. No joke. READ IT AGAIN! Really, go back and try to find the 6 "f''s" before you scroll down. The reasoning behind is further down.



The brain cannot process "OF". Incredible or what? Go back and look again. Anyone who counts the 6 "f''s" the first time is a genius. Three is normal, four is rare.

This illustration is not working on my blog so if the lady isn't moving, just skip it unless you want to know what the results are.

Look at the spinning woman.

If she's spinning right, the right side of your brain is working.

If she is turning left, the left side of your brain is working.

If she turns both ways for you, then you have a 160 or better IQ.

Mercy...I guess I'm a genius, ha!

More Brain Stuff from Cambridge University....

Olny srmat poelpe can raed tihs. I cdnuolt blveiee taht I cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht I was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it deosn't mttaer in waht oredr the ltteers in a wrod are, the olny iprmoatnt tihng is taht the frist and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. The rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it wouthit a porbelm. Tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Amzanig huh? yaeh and I awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt! if you can raed tihs psas it on!!

This is where your Great-Uncle Eric is from....

When I first read this I sat and stared at my computer screen and said a long, drawn-out, "Wow!" This is my baby brother. This is the history we shared. This knocked my socks off:

Where I'm From

I am from unorganized sports games that lasted all day, from Coke in glass bottles and Rock ‘em Sock ‘em Robots.

I am from a big white house on the corner with a haunted attic, from a towering walnut tree and an oft-neglected yard.

I am from Nightshade and cherry trees.

I am from Easter Bunny visits until I was eighteen and tall, loud people, from “Victor!” and Harold and “Cousin Ginger”.

I am from mild insanity and stubbornness.

I am from a parsnip truck and a “Good Time Charlie”.

I am from a complete lack of religiousness. It was not discussed, encouraged, or discouraged. It was a non-issue. My first memory of anything to do with religion was when I watched “Ben Hur” on TV with my mom when I was in my early teens.

I am from a tiny, drab, wet town on the Harbor. One of the landing spots of my somewhat nomadic parents before they finally settled in Vancouver. I am from “Chef Boyardee” spaghetti with hot dogs cut up in it (Yuck!) and Cheerios. I am the baby, the accident, who was so much younger than the rest of the kids that I have very vague memories of them.

I am from an alcoholic uncle who drank himself to death, and from his namesake who followed in his footsteps and died from choking on his own vomit in a jail cell.

I am from two or three boxes of black and white pictures, from a small pouch of antique coins, from my father’s medals from “the War”, from old postcards of England and New England. Mementos of an extended family that I never knew.

I am from old Fords and Ramblers that stunk heavily of stale cigarette smoke.

I am from a tense atmosphere where even though you knew you were loved it was never really shown.

I am from freedom. Freedom to roam from sun-up until sun-down, and often longer than that. Freedom that comes from often too-trusting parents who understood that life’s experiences were best encountered without constant adult supervision.

I am from “Stay tuned to ABC for Batman: In living color!”

I am from a refrigerator packed so full of food it could feed half of starving Africa, from a mother who was convinced that everything in that refrigerator had spoiled. “Victor, smell this!”

I am from psychedelia, from drugs, from bell bottoms and platform shoes. I am from perms for both men and women.

I am from the game of the week (usually the Yankees).

I am from The Jackson Five, The Osmonds, Jody Foster. It feels like we all grew up together.

I am from Goofy learning to drive, from Bugs Bunny and all sorts of politically incorrect cartoons.

Life Lessons

A blog entry Donna wrote the other day brought back memories of two children whose lives have crossed my path. I feel deeply blessed to have known them. I wrote this a few years ago on my original blog:

I worked as a lunch lady in a middle school for several years and I met thousands of kids during my ‘illustrious’ career. Many of them touched my heart but none of them touched it like Andrew and Ashley. I think by the time I'm done telling you about them, they'll have touched your hearts, too.

Andrew was a student the first year I worked at this particular school. He had so many disabilities his aide didn't know where to begin to list them all. He was in a wheelchair. His teeth were all disfigured. He had cerebral palsy. He'd had countless surgeries and shunts installed in his brain. He was a feisty little red-haired Scotsman who couldn't speak but he wasn't shy about letting anyone know if he was unhappy! He wouldn't focus or make eye contact with anyone but that didn't stop me from loving him and talking to him every day as his aide would bring him into the cafeteria. I'd hunker down by his wheelchair and take hold of his hand and talk to him like he was any other kid in the school. One day his aide brought him into the kitchen for a snack and asked if we had any yogurt. I told her sure, we had strawberry and blueberry...which kind did she think Andrew might like? She shrugged and said, "Oh, I don't know. Strawberry, I guess." I looked over at Andrew and I said, "How about if I ask Andrew what he'd like?" She looked at me like I was crazy because he never talked and she said rather flippantly, rolling her eyes, "Sure, go ahead and ask him." I did. I went over and crouched down in front of him and I MADE him look at me by sheer will power. As our eyes connected I asked, "Andrew, we have strawberry and blueberry yogurt. What kind would you like, sweetheart?" It took him a few moments but he spoke out: "Bloooooooooooooberry!!" I patted him on the knee and said, "Blueberry it is, buster," and stood up. Well, my co-worker and the aide were standing there staring at me open-mouthed from shock. I just smiled and said, "Has anyone ever asked Andrew what HE wanted before?" and I went and got his yogurt.

From that day on, Andrew was all mine, heart and soul. I taught him a simple song, an old ball-bouncing song I used to sing when I was a kid called "One, Two, Three, O'Leary". When I'd see him I'd call out, "There's my baby Andrew!” and he would smile from ear-to-ear and call out "Baby Krissy!" If I'd crouch down by his chair to talk to him, he'd reach out with his wobbly hand and pat me on the cheek. He'd tell me "I love you."

The last year I worked there, Andrew became critically ill. He spent most of that year in a children's hospital here in the city. He had a leg amputated, the foot on the other leg taken off, too. His mother cleared it for me to have security access to the ICU camera to Andrew’s room and nursing reports so I could check up on him online when I got home from work. I shed a lot of tears. I sent him cards and photos. I sent up a lot of prayers. And then at the end of that school year I lost my job. I lost contact with Andrew. And it grieved my heart.

I remember the first day I laid eyes on Ashley. It was the first day of school and I was busy putting money on the kids' lunch accounts. I looked up to take money from the next student in line and I froze for a moment...then forced myself to smile and keep on talking. Ashley was the most horribly disfigured child I'd ever laid eyes on. She literally looked like a monster. I had seen a lot of things, working in schools, but nothing had ever prepared me for my first glimpse of Ashley. But she was so happy-go-lucky, so confident, so full of grit...I fell in love with her. We formed an instant bond.

She had been burned over the majority of her body as an infant when she was lying on the floor in front of the fireplace and a spark landed on her sleeper and set her on fire. Only the top of her head and her back up around the shoulder area hadn't been scarred. She hadn't been expected to live. But Ashley overcame the odds...what a fighter! Most kids would reel away in shock when they'd see her for the first time but that didn't stop her...she'd just march right up to anyone and talk their ear off.

She missed a lot of school in the 3 years I knew her. She had one surgery where some kind of synthetic hump was inserted under the skin on her back to stretch it out for more skin grafts. She looked like the Hunchback of Notre Dame. The medication she took made her drool and slur and stagger around. But any day she could be at school she'd make a bee line for the kitchen and holler out "Krissy!" and come flying into my arms for a big hug and a smooch. And then I’d go off into the cooler to cry a bit and regain my composure.

Last days of school each year were always bittersweet. On Ashley’s last day as an 8th grader, all the 'graduates' were getting ready to head out to a nearby amusement park for a picnic and to spend the day on rides. Parents had volunteered to drive several of the Special Ed kids in their cars. I was standing with my co-worker in the doorway looking outside, enjoying the sunshine and the excitement of the kids. My co-worker spotted Ashley sitting in the back seat of one of the cars, craning her head toward us and waving frantically. Rhonda said, "Krissy, here she comes!" and Ashley popped out of that car and came racing across the parking lot and into my arms for the last time. I hugged that darling little girl with all my might. As she looked up at me and rested her chin on my chest, gazing into my eyes, I cupped that beautiful little face in my hands and kissed her on the forehead. I said, "I love you, Ashley." She said, "I know you do, Krissy, and I love you, too. I will never forget you!" One more hug, then she went dashing back to the car, whooping and laughing and ready to fly off into her future. I didn’t have a single doubt the world would ever be able to ignore that little spitfire.

House Cleaning

I've been browsing thru my old blog archives...all 896 entries of it. I started out with the intention of finding an entry I told my blog friend Donna about but I got sidetracked as I stumbled across several poems I'd written and posted on it. I've been thinking of gleaning thru my old entries, re-posting/rewriting them as I see fit, then deleting it. Dear Hubby, when I told him what I was doing -- or thinking of doing -- strongly disagreed with me. He said it's my history and I should leave it as is. I dunno. But I digress. As usual.

Those of you who've been reading my blog(s) since I began writing in April of 2005 -- and there are a few -- will probably recognize the ones that will follow here. These are the ones I found tonite and now I'm too tired to do any more brain straining and reliving in my blog past. I love my old blog. It's like visiting a friend you haven't seen in years. But it's also fraught with a lot of old memories, old history, that was purged and left behind when I began this one in December 2006. More poems will follow, I'm sure.

I think I said recently that I use poetry to express the things I can't express.

These things dwell in the center of my heart.

The Man You Are Now

In the man you are now

is still the boy you were then.

A seasoned version,

weathered by time,

mellowed by countless hours of peace and contentment

in each other's company.

Rivers and ribbons,

the ebb and flow of two lives

two hearts

so closely entwined

words are not

necessary.

In the man you are now

are the mysteries of a

Cherokee fire,

the embers of which I sensed

smoldering

beneath the surface on

that cold January night.

The eyes already seeing

the future

of what we were to

become.

One.

In the man you are now

is the man I knew you would be.

The father of my children.

The center of my universe.

The one who sees my strengths

but forgives me

my weaknesses.

The man who I can show my tears to

and not be ashamed.

My life.

My sanctuary.

--January 18, 2006

Written for the 32nd 'anniversary' of the day we met.

Infant Stars -- For Dylan As I'm Awaiting Your Arrival

Infant Stars

I can see your face there,

Floating in space.

It looks as if you’re

Gliding

Through eternity

To get here.
Where have you come from,

Little one?

The sky is liquid black.

There is no path.

You’re wrapped in a

Cocoon

Of an ocean of

Stars.
I am here awaiting your

Entry.

I am your grandmother….

And I, too,

Have traveled the same

Route

As those before me

And those

Yet to come.

We are space travelers,

Sojourners.

We come as a flicker of flame

Across the sky,

Just two in a multitude

Of shooting stars.

Infant stars.

Ancient as time.

-- February 3, 2006

My Mother's Hands

They were beautiful, your hands.

Fine-boned and classic.

Your one vanity.

They didn't reach out to

touch me often

but when they did, I knew it was a gesture

of your deepest

love.

Touching wasn't something

that came easily

to you

so when your fingers

stroked

my fevered brow

there was healing there

for me.

Not only did you soothe

my childish ills

but you eased

my childish

spirit.

I knew you loved me.

I did.

It was all there.

In your hands.

I looked down into the

dish water

the other day.

I saw your hands there

in my hands.

The same fine bones.

The same tapered fingers.

And where did they come from...

are they the hands of

your mother

or countless mothers

before us?

I don't know the answer to that.

But I do know

we travel on

from one generation

to another.

It's all there, the history.

It's in our hands.

-- March 5, 2006

My daily jolt has fizzled...

...down to my cup or two in the morning. Someone (I think it was Linda) either commented or emailed me when I was bemoaning my horrific nite sweats and told me by eliminating caffeine and chocolate from their diet it got rid of them for her. Stubborn Swede that I am, at first I balked. I mean, I am a diehard coffee addict! And even tho Menoquil had greatly reduced them to just one 'dewing' (I had a Home Ec teacher in 8th grade who told us we girls don't 'sweat', we 'dew' ) per nite, I wanted the sweats gone!!! So...reluctantly...I decided to give up my two cups per evening at dinner time. And voila`! The sweats are gone! Woooooooooooooo hoooooooooooooooo! So, thank you, Linda, or whoever the kind soul was who urged me to quit the coffee -- or in my case, reduce it.

Yesterday afternoon when Dear Hubby got home I bundled up Dylan and we took off to the library and Fred Meyer...I'd run out of chicken nuggets and ketchup, horrors!!! My grandson informed me at lunchtime, "You go buy more chicken nuggets and ho-ho (his word for ketchup because Santa Claus is red, go figure) at the store, Mommy." When we got there, Fox 12 news was stationed outside the door we went in. There was a devastating fire at an elementary school in our area and the station had set up a school supply drive to help replenish the kids' (something like 460 of them) and teachers' school room supplies. That caught Dylan's attention, as we walk by that school a lot and when he saw the TV van, the microwave antenna sprouting out of it, the cameras and hustle and bustle he wanted to know all about it. As we came back out, one of the reporters was standing there talking to his camera man and another gentleman and Dylan yelled out, "Hi, guys!" They all laughed and said, "Hi!" back. As the female anchor came out of the van with a cup of coffee in her hand, Dylan yelled out, "Hi!" and waved at her as well, practically under her nose. She laughed and bent down to him and said, "Well, hello to you, too!" Thankfully he didn't interrupt any broadcasting, haha! Well, it's my fault the kid doesn't know a stranger...we greet everyone we meet as we walk all over.

Friday! The boys will be here soon...gotta scoot. Rain today.

Sigh....

Blame this on Betty....

I spend a lot of time at Betty's, HA! :

1. What was the last song you listened to? "Looking for a City" by the Chuck Wagon Gang, this afternoon just before the grandboys went home. They love to dance around the house to it.

2. Have you ever had “buyer’s remorse” over anything? Yes, for my digital camera. I'm glad I bought it for Dear Hubby's sake because he more or less took it over after I let it sit for months in my desk. I can't seem to get the hang of it and I found out I wasn't as interested in it as I thought I would be.

3. What is something in your life that you are thankful for now that you didn’t think you would be at the time of the event? (Something that seemed ill-timed, inconvenient or hurtful which turned out to be a good thing) The year 1999 was an absolutely AWFUL year for me in a lot of ways. Spiritually challenging, emotionally challenging, physically challenging. I was hospitalized that October with what was originally thought to be a heart attack...thankfully it wasn't...but those 4 days I spent in the hospital not knowing what was wrong with me really made me stop and do some serious re-prioritizing of my life. In retrospect, it was a year that probably saved my life.

4. Do you watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade every year? Nope. I think it's pretty corny, actually.

5. Share a quote, scripture, poem or lyric which has been an inspiration to you lately. "A day hemmed in by prayer rarely unravels."

6. This is meant to be a fun question, and this is a G-rated blog, but please share a “guilty pleasure,” something that you enjoy that’s probably not the most edifying, time-worthy or healthy thing you could be indulging in. Eating rice chips at the moment, just a few minutes before going to bed.

7. What Thanksgiving food are you looking forward to? Pumpkin mousse

8. What is your favorite book to read to children, or what was your favorite childhood book? It was a series of books by Maud Hart Lovelace called the "Betsy/Tacy" books. LOVED THEM!!!!!!

9. Do you collect anything? Outside of dust balls under the furniture, I collect angel items. Not so much now as I did in the past but I have a pretty good collection of them.

10. Gift bags or wrapping paper? I LOVE gift bags!!! I am L A Z Y when it comes to wrapping gifts...I think gift bags are some of the best creations ever.

11. Share an after-school memory from when you were younger. What was your routine like on an average day? I loved coming in from school, scrambling into my play clothes -- this was back in the day when girls had to wear dresses/skirts to school -- and running out to play, play, play until dinner time.

12. True story: Once, in a job interview, I was asked this question and told there would be no clarifying; I simply had to answer the question: “When you’re fishing, do you feel for the fish?” So what about you? When you're fishing, do you feel for the fish?? Not one bit.

Trick or Treat Memories...

Let Brotherly Love Continue...

And they tell me this is going to be fun...

Gotta build up some energy!

I'm not tired!

"And ME!!" either!

Take a look at THIS!

My best friend Lizzee sent me this most amazing story. I had to share it with you. If anyone has ever seen Daniel Day Lewis' amazing acting job in "My Left Foot" they'll understand the effort it must have taken this gentleman to create his art:

Pictures from a Typewriter

He lived at Rose Haven Nursing Home
( Roseburg, OR) for years. Paul Smith, the man with extraordinary talent was born in Philadelphia on September 21, 1921 with severe cerebral palsy. Not only had Paul beaten the odds of a life with spastic cerebral palsy, a disability that impeded his speech and mobility but also taught himself to become a master artist as well as a terrific chess player even after being devoid of a formal education as a child.
"When typing, Paul used his left hand to steady his right one. Since he couldn't press two keys at the same time, he almost always locked the shift key down and made his pictures using the symbols at the top of the number keys. In other words, his pictures were based on these characters ...... @ # $ % ^ & * ( ) _ .. Across seven decades, Paul created hundreds of pictures. He often gave the originals away. Sometimes, but not always, he kept or received a copy for his own records. As his mastery of the typewriter grew, he developed techniques to create shadings, colors, and textures that made his work resemble pencil or charcoal drawings.."
This great man passed away on June 25, 2007, but left behind a collection of his amazing artwork that will be an inspiration for many..

I've been critiqued!

I've been critiqued!

Tho I must admit it feels a little strange to be considered

ELDERLY!

Ha!

Second Act

First Act is below...here's Part II:

51. I bit my fingernails for over 40 years

52. I thumb thru magazines from the back cover to the front

53. I like to snow shoe

54. I hardly ever wear a coat in cold weather, unless I'm out walking for miles with the grandboys

55. I like to wear the color black

56. My hair is naturally curly when it's short but has only a bit of wave in it once it hits shoulder length

57. I am reading my Bible from cover to cover for the 8th or 9th time...lost track

58. If I drink any soda/fruit drink that has red or orange dye in it I feel like my heart is going to hammer its way out of my chest

59. I am allergic to nuts

60. And crab

61. I have issues about trusting people

62. My mother was only 61 when she died. That's not that far away for me now. Something to think about.

63. If I find anything belonging to someone else and there's ID in it I return it without a second thought

64. I am very thankful my parents moved out to the Pacific Northwest after WWII from New England. I can't imagine living anywhere else.

65. Beautiful music makes me cry

66. I can't hear Handel's "Hallelujah" chorus without crying like a baby, especially

67. I do a lot of left speak -- for any new readers, I am TOTALLY left-handed

68. I type 70-75 wpm, depending on if it's a good day or bad day

69. I'm basically very optimistic

70. I hate cruelty to animals

71. Ditto that for children

72. And ditto that for women

73. I can eat lemons without puckering

74. When I'm sick I like tomato soup with crackers

75. The first album I ever bought for myself was the Supremes "You Keep Me Hangin' On". I

was 13.

76. I can't swim well facedown in the water but I swim quite well on my back

77. I've had mononucleosis twice in my life

78. I climbed the Astoria Column three times in one day when I was a kid. I'm not sure how many stairs there are in it but there are a LOT!

79. I once hitchhiked and rode in a car with three guys I didn't know. I lived to tell about it and I wasn't raped!

80. I could buy my own liquor at the age of 17 without being asked for ID. Can you imagine ME doing that?! But I did, and regularly, too.

81. I keep a lot of memories to myself and have never shared them with anyone.

82. I never carry a purse. I don't even own one.

83. I have eaten rattlesnake

84. And moose

85. And antelope

86. And frogs legs

87. Poetry writing is the way I express the things I can't express

88. I love words

89. Rocking my grandboys in our big rocker recliner gives me the finest pleasure in my life right now

90. I am not afraid to age gracefully

91. I love very very deeply, even tho I'm not very good at showing it

92. I am getting better at it, but showing affection has never been easy for me

93. I am very fair

94. I am very open

95. I am very honest

96. I don't have patience for stupidity

97. I am very discreet and can keep secrets for life

98. I am very trusted

99. I can wiggle my ears

100. I have gone skinny dipping

Betty did this on her blog and I haven't done it for a long, long time. So here are my first 50:

1. I can remember back to being in a crib.

2. Half the time I can't remember what I did yesterday.

3. Both of my parents are dead.

4. I have 3 brothers.

5. I am next-to-the-youngest

6. I am not very close to brother number 1

7. I've been estranged from brother number 2 for over 17 years -- his choice

8. Brother number 3 and I are as close as any members from our family have ever been, I think

9. I was a tomboy until my mid-teens

10. I loved playing with paper dolls and still have mine.

11. I have never had a pedicure.

12. I have never had a manicure.

13. I hate to cook

14. Clutter drives me crazy

15. I love to read but don't find enough time to read as much as I like

16. I would love to find time to ride my exercise bike thru the winter months but I've already sacrificed an hour of sleep to be able to make time for my Bible reading

17. I really, really wish there was one more hour in a day

18. I have a bagel for breakfast every day

19. I rarely ever eat lunch

20. I almost drowned when I was 3

21. I am afraid of deep water because of that

22. I once saw George Harrison of the Beatles

23. I carried on a torrid letter romance with a young man I'd met on a trip to Minneapolis while I was dating another guy here at home.

24. I was planning on moving to Minneapolis when I met Dear Hubby. That was the end of that.

25. I have no patience for marathon talkers

26. But I am a good listener

27. I've had heat stroke twice in my life

28. I love ferry boats

29. I have a very special bond with most young people I meet

30. I have that same kind of bond with elderly people, too

31. My grandboys are the center of my universe

32. I hate being put on hold.

33. I hate having to go thru 50 numbers on a phone menu to finally get thru to a HUMAN!!!!

34. I hate dealing with foreign customer service reps. Most of my conversation with them is, "Excuse me, can you repeat that again?" What takes an hour could've taken 10 minutes with someone from US soil.

35. That's especially true when I'm dealing with computer issues.

36. Now that I'm older I don't know if this is still true but I used to be able to throw a football as hard and as far as a guy. My brother number 2 nicknamed me "Ramona Gabriel" after the QB Roman Gabriel in the 60s. That brother is the one who taught me how to throw.

37. I am not now and never have been a girly-girl

38. I have never taken a back seat to any man as far as my intelligence goes. If he doesn't like it that I'm smart...tough.

39. Dear Hubby loves my mind.

40. No wonder I married him.

41. I am 5' 7" and shrinking daily

42. I don't like taking medicine

43. I didn't have a close relationship with my mom while she was alive.

44. But I do understand her better all the time, the older I get

45. I hate confrontation

46. I like to live quietly

47. I prefer mellowness over excitement

48. I am a homebody

49. I love to garden and it really bothers me that I haven't had the time to get out and keep my flowerbeds beautiful the past few years.

50. When I finally have the time to do it again, I'll have enough yard work to keep me happy for a long long time!

Comfort Zone: an environment or situation in which a person feels secure or at ease

I think I missed my calling. I think I should've been a United Nations ambassador. Or at least a translator. I don't know why but I seem to be the customer in a store or business

who is approached by people who can't speak English and need help. And I am always willing to do whatever I can to help. I put myself in their shoes and think how scary it must be to live in a new country and not know the language. I'd be lost in Moscow. Or Ho Chi Minh City. Or Beijing. I'd be searching out the first friendly face I could spot. Maybe that's what it is. Maybe I look friendly. I dunno.

The other afternoon I was at Fred Meyer in the Cold Remedy aisle...everyone in our family has been sick this week with a crummy cold and I was stocking up on Nyquil and Dayquil. Or attemtpting to, I should say, since their supply was nearly wiped out. A lot of sick people in Portland, that's for sure. In fact, I'd gotten down on my hands and knees to look waaaaaaaaaaaaay back on the bottom shelf to see if I could spot any more Nyquil...doing stuff like that never embarrasses me. As I turned my head out from the nether regions of the shelf, another head was there by mine, peering in. A woman in a kerchief, bending over and grasping her rather plump knees. I began to chuckle and said, "Well, at least by getting down here I found what I wanted" and brandished a couple of bottles of Nyquil. She smiled and several others around me commented on how sick everyone was. As I got to my feet and started to walk away I heard someone say, "Excuse me, Madam." and I looked to find the woman in the kerchief holding two bottles of Vicks cold remedy. "Which better?" she asked me. I looked them over. One was for coughs only. The other, multi-symptoms. So I pointed to the first one and said, "This one...." and then I proceeded to fake-cough. "This one," I pointed to the second bottle, then coughed, sneezed, grabbed my nose, grabbed my throat, waved at my face like I was hot, and did 'runny' motions for the nose and eyes. Everyone stood there watching in mute fascination, I guess, because no one moved. "Ahhhh!" she said, smiling and nodding her head vigorously. "Thank you, thank you!" I smiled and nodded and went on my way. Did the rest of my shopping. As I approached a checkout line I heard a familiar voice: "Madam! Madam!" I turned to find the lady in the kerchief hurrying towards me, both bottles still in her hands, coming to a stop beside my cart. "Which one better?" she asked, pointing at her head and shrugging at me...she'd forgotten. I pointed to the multi-symptom. "This one," I told her. Her gratitude made my day.

Now, what if I'd been rude? What if I'd shrugged her off or made a motion like I was too busy-don't bother me? Helping people comes naturally to me...I've been in the role of the nurturer most of my life. It's my comfort zone. It doesn't make me uncomfortable or feel conspicuous. It makes me feel good.

My basic innate nature is to be on the shy side. Maybe shy isn't the right word. Maybe it's quiet. Maybe it's solitary. I was a very social little girl, but back then I was in my comfort zone, the small town I'd lived in most of my life where I was accepted as I was. My teen years I retreated for several years...kind of like fallow ground. I put my personality to 'rest', only to experience rebirth after I graduated from high school. And then I went dormant again when I became a Christian. Sad to say, at least in my church environment, I stayed dormant for a long, long time. Coming for an almost non-existent knowledge of anything religious, I was way out of my comfort zone there for years, having no clue what was expected of me or how I was supposed to act...oh, it was mostly in my head, I realize now. I stood back. I kept very quiet. I wasn't sure about how much of my 'true' self I was supposed to let out, as far as my basic personality was concerned. I got involved in a lot of different 'ministries', did a lot of writing...but it was mostly behind-the-scenes stuff. God knew, and that was sufficient for me. Then, 10 years ago, I had an 'epiphany' year that I've written about a few times here...and I began emerging from my shell. And I began to put forth a few 'feelers'. And I began to feel like I was starting to fit in. A little bit, at least. Then I got complacent. And I just kind of...sat....there.

And then....along came my friendship with Karen...you can read our history here...that happened by whichever one of us who took the courage to step out of our comfort zones. Because Karen claims to be rather reserved, too. In fact, I mentioned in an email to her today, "Just think what we would've missed!" We'd still be in the land of "No Know!" I can't imagine it.

I had an interesting conversation on the phone the other evening with Marianne, the woman I mentioned not long ago who'd tried calling me at 8 pm only to find I was already long in bed and said she knew I went to bed early but didn't know it was that early. Well, she called again...this time around 7...and we ended up talking for about an hour. She's another woman at church I've only known on the periphery for many years. Someone who seemed very nice but our paths rarely crossed. Circumstances you can read about here changed that to a degree. At least to the point where we'd even seek each other out here and there to do a little chit chat. As we talked the other nite and opened up on a more personal level, I was amazed to find out she considered herself very shy, that approaching people is very hard for her. And I said to her, "You know, I think that's true of just about everyone." Isn't it, really? When you think back to your school years, how many were there who were truly popular? Most of us just showed up and did what needed to get done to get out of there. At least that's the way it was for me. Sure, I had my friends but the whole school didn't know who I was, not by a long shot. Now, if I hadn't stepped out of my comfort zone and sent Marianne that note and card, we would've never had such a conversation and gotten to know each other on a deeper level.

As I get older I can feel myself growing more mellow. It's like you shuck off a lot of the layers you hid under most of your younger years to find your true self sitting fallow...just kind of sleepy and slumbering but ready to burst forth with a little encouragement. So much of what seemed so important in our youth seems kind of silly now. You begin to come to terms with the thought of your own mortality and you realize time is growing shorter, that you need to step back and put your priorities in order. You get up and are thankful for a painfree day. Or a glorious sunrise. For a peaceful cup of coffee. Enjoying the birds out at the feeder. You learn to....relax. And my comfort zone? It seems to be expanding. And I find that if I reach out, most people are ready to meet me halfway.

I read it today. Let's just say it got me thru a boring, blustery, stay-inside-because-I'm-sick kind of day.

Nothing more.

OK...almost 14 hours after I wrote this morning's post...the joke is on me!

Hooooooooooooooooooo boy. I don't think it's very smart for me to write a long blog post at 4:06 am. I went back and reread it as I sat down here this evening and it's like...did I write that?!? Seriously! The only reader who commented that did get it was Donna and this is what she said:

"I didn't get the impression you were wanting to be liked. You wish the person didn't toss the f-bomb around, and you'd read their blog if it weren't for that. That's what I got from it. Now, what that had to do with guilt, I don't know. LOL."

In reading my post over, I don't even know what that had to do with guilt, either. In fact, outside of starting off in the right direction with my little ditty about stealing bubble gum, I don't even know how I ventured so far off track. But I do digress. A lot. And those of you who stop in fairly regularly already know that about me. So you should know it's best to just sit there, stare at your screen, scratch your head, and wonder "What in the world is this woman talking about?!" After living with me for 35 years, it's a miracle my Dear Hubby hasn't scratched a bald spot on his head from trying to understand how my mind works. I haven't even figured it out, and I've been living inside of it for almost 56 years. HA!

So that's my damage control for this post. And Meadowlark, it's ok. I knew when I read your comment that I'd done a bad, bad job of wandering off in too many directions. No wonder I had you so fired up and confused. But it sure made for an interesting comment! I didn't even know you were still stopping by to read so it was really nice to hear from you.

I have finally caught everyone's cold. It's settled behind my eyes and in my nose and sinuses. I feel crummy. So, a weekend of being a sicky is in front of me, I guess. Oh, joy.

But I'll delve in to that Barbara Delinsky book tomorrow and let you know how I liked it. Or not.