Thursday, May 28, 2015

This Cat Is Way Way Out Of The Bag

I've lost the last week and few days to the news that Josh Duggar sexually molested five girls in the space of something like two years. Every hour or so there's newer spins on what happened and greater detail, meaning I have to stop and update NLQ or I'm busy combing through the piles of comments to remove the nasty ones.

It's been a very hard time for me personally because between seven and nine years old I was sexually molested by the family dentist, who I didn't know was also molesting another family member several years older than I.

The news of Josh Duggar's doings and reading through the police reports only to discover that four of his victims are closely related to him has been so hideously triggering to me that I've taken to having a few refreshing adult beverages in the late afternoon. It's either that or the whole banging my head on the wooden desk.

When it happened to me I didn't have actual words to describe what was being done to me to my mother. She thought that every time I cried and freaked out over having to go to the dentist that I was afraid of it hurting or it was 'nerves'. She took to giving me a small corner off one of her Miltowns (Meprobamate) to sort of zonk me out before the appointment. She never realized that all she did was increase the attacks on me now that I was no longer crying and resisting. I lay there like a zombie while he did what he wanted. What happened to me got terribly worse until she suddenly stopped taking me to that dentist. I've never worked up the courage to ask her why we stopped going, but I'd have to reveal to her what happened to me and I'm not sure at this point it would serve any purpose.

If I, as a young girl in a non-religious family of backslidden Catholics that only visited church for marryings, buryings and holidays had no good words to describe to anyone in my life what was happening in the exam room at the dentist office then what chance did the victims of Josh Duggar's abuse have? They were all raised in the carefully sheltered world of ATI and Quiverfull Christianity, where the idea of consent is non-existent, and the idea of sexual predators was taught wrapped up in modesty and pointing towards non-Christian strangers, not people in the family unit. What chance did those girls have to report what was going on? None, because to report would be to open oneself up for criticism for possibly luring the lustful behavior in some way.

What happened for me is that while I did finally get therapy and help for my molestation in my thirties after years of internalizing the message that I was somehow 'dirty' or 'damaged'. The other thing is that when I started having children I was hyper vigilant to an extreme. I wouldn't allow Margaret to go anywhere without knowing all the details in extreme. Once I was putting the school chaperones through the verbal wringer before a four day trip to Holland to the point where one of the suggested it might be better if I chaperones rather than allow Margaret to go alone.

I attended every doctors appointment and insisted on going into the dental examination room with each of my kids. I insisted they stay within view of the house when they played outside, many times gardening so I could keep an eye on the kids outside. Margaret still complains about my rules about being home by dark even into her teenage years. Yes, I was a bit overbearing because of what happened to me.

Betting that one of the things that will happen to the victims of Josh Duggar will be that they develop into hyper-vigilant mommas too.

In Touch did one very wrong thing in how they exposed what had been whispered and gossiped about for ten plus years, they did such a horrible job redacting the police reports it was beyond obvious who the victims were. Even with one of the victims suing to destroy the reports it's too late, we all know, and a cat that should never have seen the light of day is now out of the bag. No among of destroying the documents is going to help, no carefully tippytoe-ing around the issue by those online, it's happened. I suspect knowing that everyone realizes is going to make the victims even more hyper-vigilant. It didn't have to be like that.

Even animal victims of abuse, not sexual abuse but abuse never the less, develop a hyper-vigilance. It's draining always being on high alert. My Siamese kitty Pedro was all of perhaps eight weeks when I picked him up at the animal shelter. They told me he was feral, starved and filthy when they found him. I believe after his being part of our family for the last six years that Pedro was abused too. He is still to this day very frightened of raised voices and feet. You can see it in his body posture many times that he's in hyper-vigilance mode most of the time.

The week plus I've been dealing with my own triggered emotions, updating NLQ so often I now have carpel tunnel issues with both hands including the one I had the surgery on nine years ago and developing a taste for alcohol in the afternoons, I've also had to deal with Pedro and his surgery and post-surgery care.

Pedro has cancer, but they think they removed it all. It would never have been found if not for my obsessional vigilant self. I brought him in initially because I kept feeling a growing lump on him. Which made me think about parenting and sexual abuse. Keeping your eyes open to changes in not just your animals but your children can go a long way to stopping abuse. If your child starts behaving in a manner that suggested something is wrong it's better to look at the why instead of ignoring it.

I hope and pray that the victims in this mess get a chance to have real therapy with a counselor skilled in childhood sexual abuse recovery.

Friday, May 15, 2015

Collection Agency Coda

Yesterday as I was working on some online training and doing a little bit of Spanish language labs I got another phone call from the collection agency chasing my poor dementia-addled former mother in law. It was a very interesting conversation.

They told me how the ex mother in law had not five or six years ago over a hundred thousand dollars in certificates of deposit and a big chunk of stock in Exxon. But now all of that has vanished, sold off or closed, and they are curious where it went since they've been chasing getting her bill paid almost that long now. They've thoroughly researched the ex mother in law.

I knew about the Exxon stock because even back in the dark ages when I was her legal daughter in law I remember her getting dividend checks from the stock. Her father in law worked at Exxon in the early years and ended up with quite a stock portfolio. When he died it was divided between his son and his wife. After my ex husband's father died it all went to my ex mother in law. Got it?

Turns out that the ex sister in law that gave them my phone number and said that I was handling the bills called up the collection agency the day before to scream at them for telling me she'd given out my number. She also told the agency a large number of falsehoods, which I corrected.

She told them:
  • Ex mother in law was in a nursing home, not at her apartment being cared for by hospice.
  • She didn't know who had financial power of attorney (she holds it)
  • That ex mother in law had only a measly Social Security check (There is also a state retirement pension payment)
  • She didn't know the name of the nursing home her mother supposedly resides at.
  • She gave them her address from a place she lived four years ago.
  • and so on.......
Here's the thing. If you owe money don't lie to the people trying to collect it. Be honest with them and they might just work with you. Lie to them and they're going to cut you exactly zero slack, coming after you harder than before.

Passed on the information about the CDs to Margaret because I think her father really should check into where the money went. Did the sister cash them and spend the money on caring for her mother, or did it all go for ridiculous crap for the sister? Margaret claims the agency is lying about the money and the Exxon stock, but I know for a fact that she once did have a large amount of Exxon stock. No skin off my rear end if none of them want to take a look at where the money is going. Just trying to look out for my eldest daughter.

In the meantime this has been an awful week for asthma. I am using my nebulizer many times a day and having to stay inside in the filtered air to avoid the high pollen counts and people that smell like they bathed in cigarette ashes or be triggered into an attack. It ain't fun. Guess it's a good thing I have the foibles and drama of my ex husband's family to keep me distracted. You just do not know how grateful I am to have escaped that bunch. So glad Jim's family behaves nothing like this, the care of my maw in law is agreed upon and very cut and dried.

Wednesday, May 13, 2015


Today was absolutely a turd bucket. Crawl back into bed and cry bad. Wanting to get drunk as hell day.

The bad started last night after I caught up with my ex sister in law that told the collection agency that I was now responsible for the ex mother in law's bills. She popped up on Facebook and I sent her a simple message to not share my phone number and claim I was responsible for her mother's bills and if she did it again I would have to take legal action.

She's denying all of it. But I know what the guy at the agency told me. She gave them the information. Googling the ex mother in law and my names together brings up nothing. No variation of those names brings up any link between the two of us so it is clear she did give them my contact information.

After I sent my message and refused to reply to the reams of ranting by her she called my ex husband Dan and screamed at him before calling Margaret and screaming at her. Margaret called me to complain, saying I violated Dan's request to not say a word to his sister. But I'm a big believer in directly confronting those that do evil stunts. Margaret said she would handle all of this.

So this morning Margaret calls me to tell me she's 'handled' all of this. Her idea of 'handling' it is calling up the collection agency and leaving a message with them. That's not 'handling'.

My morning was handling it with my banker, sending the collection agency a letter stating I am in no way connected to the ex mother in law, putting a note in my report at all credit agencies stating I am not responsible for any bills in her name and other things.

Around noon I had to take my Siamese kitty Pedro to our vet. About six weeks ago I felt a tiny lump near his backbone and it's suddenly grown to about marble sized. Hard lump. Once I got Pedro to the doctor they shaved the spot with the lump and it's not one lump, it's a series of lumps. He has to have it removed, all the lumps removed, and sent to the pathologist to determine what it is. They told me it's likely to be cancer, which is what I was fearing. Tests were run while we were there, but it does not look good.

I went home in shock. We lost Lil Bit to cancer three years ago, I'm not ready to go through that again. My heart is broken. Screw my ex's drama, screw people piously spouting scriptures while behaving badly, screw everything. Once I was home again I could not concentrate on the training modules I was supposed to do for this new business opportunity I'm examining. I gave up for the rest of the day, lay down on the couch with Pedro and we watched some stupid television.

Tuesday, May 12, 2015

Scammy Scummy Ex Relatives

The last few days I've been taking online testing and training for a business venture I'm considering. I've been busier than that proverbial one legged man at an ass kicking contest.

And then it happens, the ex in laws from the Black Lagoon emerge to try and drag me into their dramas. Remember last time? They wanted me to get an elderly distant relative to intervene in their squabble over who gets custody of the ex mother in law, the lady with severe dementia.

Late this afternoon I discovered a message on my cell phone from when I'd been outside watering the garden. It was from a bill collection agency looking to collect on a bill in the name of my ex mother in law. They said whoever they talked to last said I was now in charge of the ex mother in law and paying her bills.

Say what? I divorced her son 35 years ago, haven't seen any of them in many years, avoided them like the actual plague because I cannot be bothered with their constant drama. How could anyone possibly think I might be responsible for paying my ex mother in laws bills?

Someone told them I was and handed out my phone number. I'm pretty sure that 'someone' is my ex sister in law Lynn who has custody of the older lady and a habit of being pretty awful overall. Two years ago Lynn contacted me via Facebook and we had a few conversations about old times, very innocent conversations since we used to be friends. She ended up taking a few things I said completely out of context and repeated them with considerable embellishment to Margaret. I had to send Margaret the entire chat log to show her what actually was said. Margaret calmed down when she realized this was just another of Lynn's shitty games.

I've not been in touch with Lynn since I left Louisiana right after marrying Jim in 1986. Had no idea she'd turned into one of those folks that loves to stir the pot.

It's maddening because I went through this same thing with my step mother several years after my father died. My step mother ran up all his credit cards to the limit then told the credit card companies that my father had moved in with me, giving my phone number and address out to the collection agencies. I was able to stop that by faxing the various companies a copy of my father's death certificate.

I'm hoping that my copy of my official divorce papers severing my legal relationship with my ex Dan is enough to stop this.

Right after listening to the phone message and realizing someone in the family gave my phone number and information to the agency I called my daughter to ask her about it. She called her father. Dan's solution was to do nothing. Seriously? My poor daughter Margaret said that her father didn't want anyone saying a thing to Lynn about it, yet he would not take any steps to resolve this. Neither he nor Margaret will give me Lynn's phone number to pass along to the collection agency.

How typical for Dan. Don't take any action, don't resolve things, just complain about them.

I sent Lynn a Facebook message telling her I didn't appreciate my phone number being passed off to a collection agency by someone saying I was responsible for the ex mother in law's bills. She is claiming innocence. But who else would do it? She's the one paying all of the bills for her mother and she's complained many times publicly how poor this is making her. She's being called and suddenly the calls switch to me? How does that happen without Lynn giving out my information? It doesn't.

Lynn complained copiously when her step father died and his angry children evicted her from his home and stripped her of many of the things she was claiming were hers in the home. At the time I told Margaret that it looked like to me that Lynn was merely reaping the same karma she's built. That's about the only comfort I can take from this, Lynn is surely earning more bad vibes from the universe with this latest shitty action.

Margaret was down in South Louisiana when I was in Costa Rica because Lynn was moving herself and the former mother in law and could not find anyone to take care of the mother. Margaret took care of her grandmother that week, coming home with tales of family confrontations between the sisters and cousins over who controlled the grandmother. I told her anew that her father's family thrives on Jerry Springer Show type behavior and to rise above it all. Just do not engage in that crap!  I stand by that. But I'm no victim here. I'm not responsible for that poor old lady.

Monday, May 11, 2015

A Mother Of A Day

Sally and Betty from "Mad Men" My mother and I had a very Betty and Sally relationship as I was growing up. How fitting was last night's episode to be on Mother's Day.

I usually abhor Mother's Day and about ten years ago decided I definitely did not want to subject myself to the torment that is Mother's Day in a church. It's hard to sit there listening to saccharine tributes to mothers and motherhood when you've struggled with your mother and suffered a number of miscarriages through the years attempting to be a good Quiverfull momma with a large bunch of arrows.

There have also been some incidents in the past where I've been at church and my cell phone has rung with a raging, angry, and drunken call from my mother as the rotten cherry on the sundae made of poo that was Mother's Day at church. Too many Mother's Days I've experienced having to slip out of the service to be called names by someone irrational and drunk and I've ended up feeling like killing myself between that, the whole fake Hallmark-sentiment thing at church and other things happening.

For some years I ran away to the beach for the day, kids and husband in tow, and had what I used to call 'The Fifty Dollar Hot Dog Day' because by the time we all had footlongs, chips, drinks and ice cream at the Dairy Queen on Virginia Beach it cost right around fifty dollars. I loved those days.

But things have changed, my mother and I have established a better relationship where I've finally decoded what I need to do to make her feel loved on that one day. It involves a flower arrangement. With the kids grown and out of the house it means that there are no more running away to the beach Mother's Day.

What we do now, what we did yesterday, involves Andy and Laura cooking up a meal, usually grilling a few hamburgers and making things like coleslaw and fruit salad and we drive up to there house to eat and hang out. It's good and it's relaxing. My idea of fun is not standing in line at a chain restaurant to eat on Mother's Day, neither is it theirs.

So that's exactly what we did, that is right after Jim surprised me with the best Mother's Day gift he's given me this side of a beach day, tickets to go to the musical "The Book of Mormon" at the Kennedy Center in July. I had to warn him that the word "Fuck" is used with some frequency in the show because he's almost girlish about curse words, but particularly that particular word. We'll see how he does. Tempted to tell him that I'm going with Andy. Andy would love to go, he's the one that introduced me to the soundtrack four years ago.

Once we were home again I got a call from my daughter from my first marriage, Margaret, wishing me a happy Mother's Day. This is an improvement for us because until last year there were large stretches of time when we wouldn't speak. We've knocked heads a number of times over some of her lifestyle choices and the way she parents her children. But we're made more of an effort not to criticize each other and get along. I've learned to preface anything I have to say to her about something she'd involved in that I think is just asking for trouble with "I'm concerned for you because I love you.." instead of just saying "You need to stop doing z,y or z!"

She mentioned that my granddaughter, 13 year old Rachel, wants to see my mother and that she cannot understand why my mother will not return her phone calls. I had to point out again that my mother, her grandmother and Rachel's great grandmother, has always done this withdrawal thing, pointing out the many times my mother has told us she was coming to visit and then cancelled, like the time she gave us the information on where and when to pick her up from the train and we showed up only to find she wasn't on the train, called her up and discovered she decided not to come up from New Orleans yet didn't call either Margaret or I to let us know.

I had to just tell Margaret yet again that my mother has done this as far back as I could remember, hiding in her room with bon bons, books and bourbon at the drop of a feather. There was no rhyme o reason for it, seemed so random. Nothing we can do or will ever do will stop this, it's her, not any of us. We cannot change her, we just have to accept it and realize that it's nothing personal, it's just the way she is. Hating her for her own quirks and foibles is like hating someone for having cancer, you just cannot hold them responsible for something their own life created. My mother's father frequently abused my grandmother, to the point that my grandmother died during her twelfth pregnancy. Drinking, domestic violence and other assorted dysfunctions were part of my mother's early years and not dealing with them has created who she is.

We all are who we are and react the way we do because of our life experiences. Later yesterday evening watching Betty Draper Frances in "Mad Men" deal with the news that she has terminal late stage lung cancer had terrible echos of my past with my mother, even if my mother is still alive. That denial and frosty 'put on the best facade' behavior and no talking about it is how I'm sure my mother would have handled the same circumstances had it happened back when I was a teen. I'm sure I would have reacted about like Sally Draper did, wanting a hug, some acknowledgement or affection and not understanding how my mother was acting.


We found out this week that Margaret has to have a complete hysterectomy soon, just like I had to have eleven years ago after having my ninth miscarriage and not being able to heal from that physically. Margaret is remarkably upbeat about the surgery, telling me that I'm not the only one assuring her it will be the best thing she could ever have done.

For me it was because I had problems with my reproductive system from the first time I got my period. Many D&Cs and other surgeries, drugs and miscarriages later I know I should have had it done at least ten years earlier than I did. I feel so much better as I used to lose days monthly to the misery of my uterus.

The only real downside of this news is that it upset Laura. Laura wondered if she was going to have to have a hysterectomy at an early age. I told her I thought it wasn't likely. Both Margaret and I had a long history of problems with that part of our bodies, she's been normal, so it wasn't likely.

I'm going to go stay at the house and take care of her after the surgery like my mother did for me.

Saturday, May 09, 2015

Indigestion and Casseroles

Haven't been posting because life has been rather boring. I've been recovering from pneumonia, it's all codeine cough syrup, antibiotics and laying down when I don't absolutely have to run the dishwasher or washer dryer. As usual Jim is pissed with me because his simple cold of one week has turned into a three week ordeal of lung infection for me. He just doesn't get it how sick I am. My doctor said that the trip to Costa Rica put stress on my screwed up immune system and weakened it, resulting in this crap. Feeling better but my voice is still really screwed up.

Have only ventured from the house that isn't drug-obtaining or food shopping related exactly twice. Once to go into DC with Jim to watch the Nationals play with his coworker and friend Tom. We had a blast even if the day was rather warm. When I was off scoring a frozen margarita Jim was walking around the stadium. In his upper deck wanderings he ended up right behind a guy that caught Bryce Harper's third home run. Jim almost caught the ball. But I think he was more thrilled by being shown on ESPN and the news coverage of the game.

The other excursion took place last night to a picnic for Jim's Sunday School class. I figured it would be a good, not-so-threatening, way to see if I was still highly triggered by our mainstream church. Jim has been begging me to return even as I swore I would not. Here's what I discovered....

The people that had been Christians and part of the church for quite a while were fine, but the one lady and her friends who were new Christians who'd only been at our church a few years and part of the group involved with the mess over the worship leader and his wife made me almost sick with their behavior. 

The main culprit is also the main one that seemed to spearhead the snubbing of me and saying ugly things. This lady, and I use the term loosely, said all sorts of nasty things over the course of the picnic, revealing her lack of any maturity.

She started out talking about her love of wine and drinking, over and over again in such detail that finally the man studying to be a pastor had to explain to her that the Methodist church didn't approve of boozing it up.

Then she moved on to talking about the home group she leads, how horrifying it is, how hard, how much she hates it. She sometimes goes into the bedroom to have a quick glass of wine while it's going on in order to survive it. The main problem seems to be that she cannot remember where in the Bible scriptures are to refute what the others attending are saying. She copes with this tension by the secret drinking the bedroom, by texting her friends about how 'awful' it all is and by complaining about it.

If there's one thing I know about it's awful home groups. The last two years of our time at the old church Jim and I were the local home group leaders. Which meant my personal bete noire, Tom Smith and his wife, were frequently in my face at home group. I didn't like it much, but handled it, I dealt with it without complaining to anyone more than my own husband. I didn't run and hide, I didn't drink, I didn't text my friends to whine, I pulled up my big girl panties and dealt with it!

This is a fifty year old woman we're talking about behaving like this, not some twenty-something out on their own trying to navigate the ridiculous bullshit of being an adult.

Finally she started telling everyone in great loud detail about her period and how she needs her wine for her awful period. At that point in the evening the student-minister and I got up from the circle and walked away to talk about our children. I could see from the red faces of some, including the two of us, that there were some attending that were made very uncomfortable by her words.

Lucky for Jim he was engaged in a serious conversation with another friend of ours and missed the drinking/bleeding/crazy. He said he wondered why several of us got up and left and why so many people seemed red faced. I had to tell him later all the horrible he'd missed.

Later it came out that she's going to go to work at the art studio I once worked at, with the sociopath that runs the joint and expects everyone to wear a business suit, teach art classes for free AND read her mind. Myself and one of the others there had both worked at the studio and tried to warn Ms. Wine that the owner was a psycho but I could see our words went into one ear and straight out the other. So.. she's in for quite a time.

Part of me is meanly gleeful knowing that this woman I don't much like will be working for the craziest employer in our tiny town. Clash of the dumbasses.Yeah, I know, I'm going to hell for thinking that way. Gotta admit it, but I would love to be a fly on the wall when she starts working there.

Considering shooting an email off to the pastor to let him know that he really should not allow new Christians without any education or experience to lead small groups like that. I'm so glad I'm not in church any longer. I think I'd rather keep communing with the divine, or not-divine, alone without potluck dinners, gossipers, immature people, and assorted others.

Monday, April 27, 2015

The First Thread

A few weeks ago NLQ blogger and friend Bruce Gerencser asked for readers to ask him any question that they liked and he would try to answer it.

If you don't know Bruce you should scooch on over to his blog - The Life and Times of Bruce Gerencser - and have a read. Bruce's life story is a fascinating one. He used to be an Independent Fundamentalist Baptist minister for many years and now he's an atheist.

While I'm not entirely done with faith and cannot call myself an atheist in good conscience I think I'm more of an agnostic. If there is a God, and I suspect there might be, then he really doesn't give a crap or intervene in our day to day lives like I was taught during my years as a sold out Christian.

The question I'd been wondering about and had to ask Bruce was what was the first thing, the very first thread pulled from the tapestry of his faith, that caused it to completely unravel. Was it a slow process or all at once. Bruce was kind enough to answer my question.

His answer made me start thinking about where exactly that point was in my own journey where the first thread was pulled and the tiniest seed of doubt sprang up.

My moment of thread pulling occurred because of Yoga.

At some point in the early 2000s we were all handed a paper booklet and told to pray, then fill out the book. It was a spiritual inventory list, all the sins you'd done, things you'd done that might open the door to Satan, etc.. a self-shaming checklist catalog that was a companion to the book we were fixing to study. I no longer remember the book name or the author but some of the questions on the inventory still stick with me, like having to admit to and renounce bathing in urine to glorify the devil.

I had no problem checking off the boxes on standard everyone knows it's a sin stuff like lying or stealing, but all the things on Satan worship and the lists of normal ordinary things they were trying to say were sin, such as watching television or practicing martial arts was extremely off putting to me. I could not see what the sin was in certain types of exercise.

One of the biggies in exercise-sin category was yoga. Yoga?

Now that I really could not see because I'd practiced yoga off and on for years, starting in the late 1970s when my oldest child was a new born. Every afternoon and morning, religiously you might say, I put my baby in the baby swing, took off my shoes, switched on the local PBS station and did yoga along with Lilas, host of the yoga program on PBS.

I was trapped in a bad marriage with a man I should never have married, home all day with a new born, trying to regain my pre-baby body and deal with the stress of a mother in law that lived next door and hated me. My twice daily yoga was a ritual that helped me cope with the hopeless situation I lived in. I kept up my yoga practice through the divorce but at some point stopped doing yoga more than once in a while.

The poses helped with my stress levels and the breathing exercises helped the asthma. It was a win-win in my eyes.

So when this spiritual inventory book went around the church and we started going through the booklet, talking about the sins, one by one as a group, I could not help but very timidly ask why yoga was on this list. It had helped me and I felt no need to repent from it, didn't think it should even be on this list.

Up until that moment I'd been a true believer Koolaide drinking Quivering momma. Believed every word of the Bible was true. Believed that believers would never lie to further their own agendas, that there was a demon under every bush.

When I voiced my concerns about yoga I was told that yoga was a sin because you had to chant the names of demons while doing yoga. Yoga opened a door to the demonic and I had better repent and ask God's forgiveness as quickly as possible.

There was just something about that I could not accept. I'd done many hours of yoga and in my spirit felt like what this leader said was very wrong indeed.

I didn't dare talk back but... I shrunk down in my pew and thought about this list and yoga. I could not ever remember doing any chanting in my yoga practice, certainly nothing 'demonic' I kept my mouth shut, but started thinking for the first time since we joined that church that someone was spewing bullshit about something they knew nothing about.

Later that day, after we arrived home from our usual five hour Sunday church service, I pulled my ancient and yellowing copy of 'Lilas Yoga and You' from the bookshelf and started reading through it. I noticed in the very first chapter that the author referred to their faith in Christ and practice in yoga. Confirmation of what I thought, that yoga was simply a harmless gentle exercise that held no religious connection in the way I'd practiced it. I realized for the first time as a Christian that sometimes people put additional rules onto believers that had nothing to do with Christ, reality or faith.

Once that first thread was pulled out others followed until the big messy tangle of threads that was my leaving the old church happened.

Funny how some small thing can start your journey in an unimaginable direction.

Yes, I still do yoga, but I stick with the water version now. If you lose your balance in the Warrior Pose and fall down it's much gentler to fail into the arms of water than the cold hard floor of the gym.

Coughing, Honking and No Talking

We're back in the big Culpecker, but we'd done nothing more than unpack our bags. We returned last Wednesday night after a hard two day drive up from the Fort Lauderdale airport.

The first thing we did on Thursday morn was drive straight to the local doc in the box. Jim's cold has morphed into bronchitis and mine (because of my lung problems) had already turned into walking pneumonia according to the chest xray.

So since Thursday there's been piles of pills, lots of swilling of various liquids and rest. Lots of television and horizontal attitudes.

Plus I completely lost my voice for the last six days, quite horrific for a talker like me. I've been silenced.

But I think that the meds are finally kicking in and I'm going to be trying to clean the house and just catch up on all the things I've let slide since Wednesday.