Rituals (a serious note)

I haven’t written an update on my mom in a while. Really there is nothing new other than the knowledge of what people have to go through when a loved one is in the final stages of Alzheimer’s. Mom is basically asleep. Part of this is due to her condition and part of it is due to pain medication. We are not sure if she is any pain or not, as she has no way of letting us know, but it doesn’t seem possible that she could be comfortable in the position in which her body has atrophied.

 

There is no more communication or responses. We can wake her up and she will open her eyes but it is hard to tell if she is looking at us or just through us. I believe recognition was gone a long time ago. Yet, we still go. We go through the rituals that we have carved out and continue to follow them. We go see her and talk to her and hold her hand but we know that it is very probable that she isn’t aware of us at all.

 

Sometimes Dad and I sort of take turns talking to her. We still try to get her attention and get into her line of vision but it is different now. I guess it is the hope. The hope of seeing that expression on her face or light in her eyes that let us know that she knew we were there. Of course, with that, was always the hope that she knew who we were. Now, I think we know the answer but we still go through the same rituals of talking to her and asking questions and telling her who we are and of course, that we love her. Hope is so necessary in life but it also requires faith and a hint of possibility. That is gone; we don’t discuss it really but we know it.

 

I’ve never really been that much of a fan of rituals. It makes me think of religions filled with manmade rites, that standing alone, don’t really have any kind of connection or meaning to me. I’ve never seen their purpose. Maybe it is my Protestant upbringing that makes me think like this. Maybe it is my lack of studying what these acts stand for and represent that makes me doubt them. My attitude toward them though, is changing.

 

I am learning and growing to understand that rituals can keep us grounded. They make us feel safe, remind us of what we are supposed to be doing, keep us focused and are a physical representation of memory and thought and maybe even give us a little bit of comfort. I tell myself that I have no artificial religious rituals but when I think it through, I have many. It’s really on Sunday that they begin. I get up at a set time reserved only for Sundays. I go through my normal, morning everyday rituals of two pieces of toast (an additional bowl of cereal during times that I have “a lot on my plate”). I turn on the iron before I eat and then after breakfast I am ready to iron my “church clothes”and get dressed. I drive to church and park on the same side of the building that I always park on and then go inside, get a bulletin and go to find a seat on the left, back side of the auditorium.

 

I watch the song leader and sing the songs displayed up on the wall. We pray and sing some more. I watch and listen to a sermon that is usually about the same length in time each week, then we sing and pray and take communion. When church is over I drive straight to where my father has been waiting every Sunday for several years and we go eat lunch and then go visit my mom. There we talk to mom and each other and we enter the ritual visit that keeps us grounded and lets us know mom is OK. It is where we used to look for a glimpse of mom recognizing us, a response, or a smile. Now we go there knowing we are only checking on her and getting to spend a little time with her. It is time; time that we will not have for much longer. It’s a ritual, a habit, an obligation, a desire; it’s a rut that we have carved out and traveled for several years now and are happy that we still get a chance to make that journey, though the destination is a shadow of what it used to be…but our love for the destination has never changed.

 

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

I know I have mentioned it to the point of overkill, but I truly hate the cold. Tonight, as I sat outside the gym, I had the hardest time getting up the umph to get out of the car. I just sat there in the car with the heat and radio on trying to justify getting out, getting cold, and going into a crowded place to pick up heavy things. Now that I am not doing the Crossfit classes and am getting to enjoy watching my ET body morph back into its original form, I have had a hard time pushing myself without a team around me. I know that all I have to do is miss a day and then I will have permission to miss another and the snowball starts and I will end up being shaped like a snowman. No, I had to make myself go. I got inside and went to the locker room , got undressed, opened my gym bag and realized that I had forgotten my clothes. Now that’s a defining moment. I may or may not have let out a “wordy dird” when I realized that I had forgotten my clothes and a stranger (Satan) standing beside me asked, “What’s wrong?” I told him that I had forgotten my clothes and that I guess I was just going to have to skip working out today. He responded, “I’ve done that before, good thing Goodwill is just a few doors down…I mean, if you really want to work out.” Great, there went my excuse. I knew that if I went home to get clothes that I would never leave the house again. So, I decided to slide down a couple of doors and find my bargain workout gear (and give back to the community).

Armed with a twenty dollar bill, I started with the pants as I could tell that they had a lot more t-shirts than sweat pants (I mean, they had to match, right?) The pants were mixed in with the dress pants so finding the appropriate size was not the easiest thing I have ever done. I found lots of MC Hammer sweats that were shiny and had elastic at the bottom. After going down ever single aisle of pants, I realized there was only one pair that was my size and not from the 80’s. They were navy blue with bright yellow stripes down the side. The t-shirt was easy as I found one the exact same color with yellow words on it. I looked at the time on my phone and realized that an hour had passed since I had first pulled into the parking lot at the gym. I had gotten completely lost in my retail therapy while scanning the aisles for the perfect workout clothes that someone had deemed not even worthy to have in their house or even in their garage in a box.  Yes, an hour had passed because I had gotten caught up in the hunt…I was Goodwill hunting.

I got  back to the locker room and put on my recycled sweat gear (wow when you say it like that….) and those pants…..they were Old Navy pants made from that material that doesn’t stretch and looks waterproof. I have never in my life seen pants with legs so wide! I didn’t notice it until I put them on. I can literally fit my entire body into one leg. I just looked like a square…I was Sponge Bob Square Pants. I put on my “matching“ t-shirt and  noticed a little fur on it. I know these clothes are supposed to be washed but this one may have Hoodini’d its way through the system. As I slid the shirt over my head, I noticed a light Febreeze scent mixed with a little…what was that….I had smelled that before….Hello Kitty that was cat pee! Oh yeah, no doubt about it. I guess there are reasons other than “this doesn’t fit any more” for people to dump their clothes off at a bin in a parking lot. It didn’t matter, at this point I was committed…the scent was faint…and I’ve smelled much worse at the gym.

I saw a couple of people that I knew while I was there but I stayed at arm’s length just in case I was not the only bloodhound in the crowd. I had this fear that if I got hot and sweaty (who am I kidding) that like a scented candle when it is lit, I too would become more aromatic. As the workout slowly progressed (no drops of sweat occurred) my Perrynoia got the best of me. I also couldn’t stop looking in the mirror at my wide pants. 

I decided to get on the rowing machine before going home as I could hear the dinner bell ringing and this Febreeze scented cat was getting hungry. I did a full seven minutes and that is all it took to heat up and unleash the essential oils locked deep inside the fibers of my discounted fitness attire.

I got back to my car and fired up the heater on high for the rest of the ride home. You know those cedar tree air fresheners that people used to dangle from their rearview mirrors? Well , if they made one that looked like a litter box, that is what should have been dangling from my mirror. Oh my word, “Febreeze-kitty” is not pleasant. I had a flashback of my Prius that I bought up in Ashville, North Carolina in about five degree temperature. I remember telling them to save me some money and not detail the car as I would do that myself. When I got there it was late at night and the wind chill was about twenty below. The salesman mentioned to me that he had ten cats at home that he needed to get to back to so we would only take a short test drive.  I noticed his jacket looked like a cat bed. When we got into the Prius and drove around, I started getting a slight whiff of something; I assumed it was his fur lined jacket. After getting the car home and taking out the paper floor mats, I noticed there was a dark red/brown stain in the passenger floorboard. I also noticed that there was some kind of red/brown liquid that had dried between the upper and lower passenger seat. As the summer heated things up, it got to the point that if I left my car out in the heat for a long time, I had to roll the windows down for a while just to handle the smell…the dead body smell. I can’t prove it but the red/brown, the great deal, the smell that could absolutely take a person’s breath away, the fact that the person who owned the car last only had it for three months and put 30,000 miles on it…oh yeah, something was up in that car’s history that Carfax and that salesman was afraid to tell. I spent a lot of money on gallons of solutions to neutralize my hybrid hearse but nothing could kill that smell….poor choice of words.

So now I have clothes that I will never wear again. Just like my former Prius owner, I will put these clothes right back into the system for someone else to enjoy. Now that I have had time to think about it, my little shopping spree made no sense at all. I could have gone home and back by the time it took me to track down my Sponge Bob/litter box ensemble but for some reason I was thinking that I was saving money. I didn’t save money; I threw $8 away. What was I thinking? Oh yeah, Satan…Satan in the locker room giving me bad ideas and pushing me to make poor choices….sneaky little devil. Tomorrow I will give back to my community by donating some workout clothes to a bin in a parking lot. Yes, I give back…I will give back a gift that keeps on giving.

 

 

 

The Next Big Thing Blog Hop

Welcome to the Next Big Thing! What is a blog hop? It’s a virtual event that helps readers discover new authors. The first author tags five others whose work he or she admires, who each tag five more, who each tag five more, and so on. This particular event has been so widespread, covering so many genres and talented authors, that it was impossible to say no to participating.

I have to first mention that I have had the honor of reconnecting with my old college friend Carole Townsend. I am not going to say how may years ago that it has been but lets just say that children have been born and graduated from college since we were in school together. Carole is the one that told me and referred me to this “Blog Hop” and I can’t thank her enough. How fun is this? It’s like Pinterest for writers. Carol has written two books already and I can guarantee they will both put a smile on your face and a chuckle in your heart. I am finishing her book “Red Lipstick and Clean Underwear” and it is just such an enjoyable book to read. Women will love it and identify with it. Men need to read it so that we can begin to pretend to understand what women are thinking. It’s real, it’s raw, and I love it. You can check out her work and blog at www.caroletownsend.com . Thank you Carole for including me in the snowball. My blog is a place where I will drop a story every now and then just to make sure I am still on track connecting and these stories will be part of my future book. I hope you enjoy my stories.

In this particular hop, the authors I’ve chosen and I will each answer, on our respective blogs, the same 10 (predetermined) questions ranging from our current works in progress to our writing processes and beyond. I hope you’ll enjoy learning about our work. Please feel free to share comments and questions.

Now, here is my Next Big Thing!

 

1)     What is the title of your book(s)?

Hmmmm, good question. I actually have two books going (in my head). I thought it would just be one book but the more I think about it, there is just no way that I can link them together. Book number one will be titled, “Leaving My Mark”...or "Connecting The Dots". The title for book number two is still up for grabs. I have a few in mind, “Laugh Lines” is currently at the top of the list. There is also the chance of renaming book number one and using “Leaving My Mark” for book number two. ( I have poor decision making skills.)

2)     Where did the idea for the book come from?

Book #1 (from this point on, #=number, not hashtag) came from a life experience. It was the result of having to rehabilitate from multiple traumatic injuries in a car wreck. I had no reference point for what I was going to experience. I realized after many years that so much of life is about perspective and that random events are often not that random at all. Book #2 came from my friends telling me to write down my daily experiences. I somehow get myself into some really unusual situations and tend to encounter some pretty unusual people. I used Facebook to just write them down and see if people actually found my odd life funny or interesting. A few years later, viola, I have the journal for my book.

3)     What genre does your book come under?

Humor

4)     Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie?

Well, to play me, it would need to be someone freakishly handsome like Johnny Depp or Rob Lowe…ha! Realistically, I would say either Ty Burrell (Phil) from Modern Family , Steve Carell from The Office, or late night talk show host Stephen Colbert….not that I have ever given this any thought.

5)     What is a one sentence synopsis for your book?

#1-A humorous look and perspective on rehabilitating in a nursing home to help anyone going through a challenging time who need encouragement to laugh, journal individual progress, and gain new perspective.

#2- A look into my diary, full of crazy days, zany people and the occasional poignant moment.

6)     Is your book self published, published by an independent publisher, or represented by an agency?

That has yet to be determined. I guess I need to write it first.

7)     How long did it take for you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

Book #1 has sat in the bowels of about three computers, a few memory sticks, a three ring binder and a handful of post it notes for about fifteen years...wow time flies even when you are not having fun. The art of “pulling it all together”  is a skill that I have not yet mastered. I do now have most of it all in one place but have to edit every story and add the glue.

Book #2 started as a trial to just post stories of my life on Facebook. I have continued doing this from time to time over the past three years. I am just now taking it all seriously and am thinking in chapters instead of posts. I am very slow to start out of the gate. One day I will decide, “this is it” and I’ll sit down and tear through it pretty quickly. I am currently seeking out placed to write and blog. I am also doing some public speaking, which I love.

8)     What other books in your genre would you compare you story?

I have no idea. I don't ever read my type of stuff because I live it every day. I look for things to help my escape my every day life. People keep telling me that my stories remind them of David Sedaris. I haven’t read any of his books yet as I am afraid I’ll be tempted to copy his style or something. I will say the Carole Townsend’s books remind me of how I talk. It's really been through reading her books and blogs that I have been able to step back and see how someone might be interested in what I write. I have seen several movies that remind me of my stories. I think "Best In Show", "Meet the Fockers" and National Lampoon's  "Christmas Vacation" kind of capture the odd and awkward people and events that I write about.

9)     What or who inspired you to write this book?

For both books, the inspiration has been family and friends who constantly tell me to hurry up and write my books so they can share my stories with their friends. Carole Townsend, Connie Williams, and Shellie Braeuner are all friends of mine who have recently been published. That has inspired me more than they will ever know.

10) What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

It’s almost every week that someone sends me a note telling me that they read one of my stories and burst out laughing or into tears. It seems that my blog has a few fans in Canada, Russia and Germany; that blows my mind. I think, no matter where you come from in life, you will be able to relate. I have two stories that no one has ever heard, not even my friends. I think they are the most embarrassing, funniest stories I have ever heard. I guarantee you will not be able to NOT repeat them.

Below you will find authors/bloggers who will be joining me by blog next Wednesday, January 23, 2013. These are people that are real. They've done their homework and they write from the heart, sometimes funny, sometimes serious.  Please be sure to bookmark and add them to your calendars for updates on works in progress and new releases! Happy Writing and Reading!

http://www.alanarnette.com/blog

http://www.musingsandmeanderings-mlp.blogspot.com
http://www.thinkingconsciouslyrocks.com
http://www.baes-ictraining.com

 

Locker Room Etiquette

Every now and then I write about something that I feal might "offend the ladies" so I try to put a rating on it. You must be 18 years old or older to read this post- that's my disclaimer. If that's you, just skip to the next story.

I have always wanted to write some kind of book on locker room etiquette for men. There are certain things guys do that they should just know better than to do. I am always wondering if they just never listened to their moms. Unfortunately, I don't think there is that much info to cover and the thought of me sitting down long enough to write a book are slim to none. So I thought that maybe I could just write up a brochure for gyms to give out at new customer orientations but I know the likelihood of anyone taking me seriously and following through are also slim to none. I could just print up a flyer but it would blend in with all the others. Plus, let's face it, even if I did write a book on this subject, who would publish it? There are many things that are just annoying like things that are done in the sink or shower that shouldn't, or the odd long phone calls made while sitting on the toilet, or standing buck naked in front of the mirrors with one foot hiked up on the sink while drying off...the list really has no end. Still, because of recent events, I now know that it all comes down to one simple sign. Yep, one rule says it all for me. So what were the events and what is the sign? I may have posted about one of these events already, if so, just realize that it was slightly traumatic for me and the repetition is therapeutic.

Several weeks ago, while sitting...sitting on a bench in the locker room putting my shoes on, an old man somewhere between 80 and 120, came up to me to tell me a very long joke. He put his foot up on the bench beside me to get comfortable during this epic story and yep, you guessed it, not a stitch of clothes...! I was at the worst eye level view you can imagine. I looked to my far left, then up at the ceiling, then down to the floor and soon decided to act like I had something in my eye as I kept rolling them around and doing eye exercises. All I could think about was the many times I have seen people on TV walk up to a microphone and smack it and say, "Is this thing on...(smack), is this thing on?" I have no idea what the joke was but as soon as he quit talking, I laughed really loud and ran out to the gym to breath and workout.

About a week later this same man got me cornered in the locker room. I was just about to step into the shower when I heard his voice just inches behind me. I was soooooooooooo afraid to turn around. I did, and there he stood wearing nothing but a smile. He said, “I need a favor." With that he turned around with his arms stretched out and said, over his shoulder, “Can you check me for ticks?".............................................!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH! OMG!!! My eyes blurred and my brain began to fog. I just kept trying to disappear or spontaneously combust. Where's a good rapture when you need one? I really thought I might just die right then and there.

It is because of these two things that I now realize what is most important in locker room etiquette. Things guys do in a locker room can really be odd or annoying or just gross. Still, there needs to be one rule of thumb, one giant sign in every men's locker room everywhere. It should read as follows:
"Do not talk to people when you are naked."
Is that really too much to ask?

 

Wave, Handshake, or Hug?

It is so odd to me to see people out of pocket, especially people I know from the gym. People I am used to seeing in sweats and wrinkled T-shirts are such a surprise when I see them at their offices or out to eat and they are all dressed up. I not only have a hard time placing how I know them, but I also can't instantly figure out how well I know them. I know, it's crazy, but sometime I just don't know if they are a wave, handshake or hug. The worst is when you go for the hug only to realize,"Wait this isn't a friend from the gym, this is the woman that groomed my dog and clipped his ear. I don't like her." Those are some awkward hugs.

Yesterday was a fast one. It was a pretty stressful day with waaaay too much to do that I had no intellectual ability to do. I was out on the town and I crossed paths with someone from the gym. It was fast and there was no prep time. It was the masseuse from the gym and I see her every day but had actually never given her more than a nod. It took a minute to recognize her as she was all fixed up in a suit and had her hair and makeup just perfect. I smiled and said "hello" as we neared and a handshake or hug didn't feel right so I just gave her a quick, "Whew, I may be hitting you up for a massage later." She didn't give me a "Hey sounds great!" or even an "Ok, but keep all your clothes on so that I don't hurl." No, she gave me one of those ,"Not in this lifetime" looks followed by a gassy smile. Gasp! Dissed by a masseuse! That's cold.

Now I may be slightly spongy, and the V-taper may have morphed into a square (making me of course, Sponge Bob Square Pants), but surely she has kneaded worse dough. I hid my horror and walked on passed her feeling very much like the "will you check me for ticks" guy.

I got to the gym later that afternoon and saw her standing in her usual spot at the masseuse counter. She was back in her normal casual clothes and I went up and said something about bumping into her...since we now had a "history". Well guess what, it wasn't her that I had run into…nope, not her...total stranger. That explains why she looked so different and possibly the reaction. Yes I passed a total stranger and told her that I would be "hitting her up for a massage later". Mmm, yeah...ah...yeah. How do I continue to do these things?

And I am Partially CareFree

Oh my word, I smell so good…but I didn’t start out this way. Today has been a long, long day. I told myself that I was going to get Christmas shopping/wrapping done early this year but here it is 11 pm on Christmas Eve and I have just wrapped my last gift…except for the one I am going to wrap in the morning (but I am done, almost). I started off making myself to go yet another Crossfit class. I actually went online to see what the details for the workout of the day were going to be to decide if I was going to go or not. I won’t Ambien you with the details but for the overview, it read that this to be the “12 Days of Christmas” workout. It was basically all centering around picking up a barbell and doing something with it. We were to do one exercise for one rep, then the next exercise we did for two reps, the next for three, etc. Ok, I read all this and the last one was twelve reps of something painful and heavy, but I added it all up and it totaled 78 lifts. 78 barbell lifts in different versions. I’m not very good at those but I needed to burn off some Christmas cheer and pre-burn a couple of upcoming Christmas dinners; so I went.


When the instructor (Pit Beagle) started the class he explained what we were going to do. I had completely misunderstood the whole thing. Just like the song, we had to start all over after each exercise. Yep, we couldn’t move on to the fourth exercise without first going back and doing one of one, two of two, etc. Holy cow! I just stood there feeling my mind blur. It was more than I could grasp and I only took basic algebra in college so I couldn’t do the math in my head (and I am not even exactly sure how to do it on a calculator). I kept looking at the board and trying to add it up until I figured it was just best to go into it blindly, keep going until I couldn’t go any more and at some point, I would get cut off because it would be time to lock up and go home.

There was an athletic looking girl in front of me so I figured I would just copy her and try to keep up with her pace and copy her moves. It was somewhere around “four calling birds” that she flew off and left me in the dust. I was taking a breather, one of many, and when I started back she was working her way down the Christmas list. Somewhere around “6 Geese a laying” everything started taking on new meaning. I was doing everything in halves and I could hear the song in my head. “Geese a laying” became, “Jesus I’m praying” and from there:


7 Swans a Swimming - 7 Kwanza shimmies

8 Maids a Milking - 8 Made me do these

9 Ladies Dancing - 9 Laid my weights down

10 Lords a leaping - 10 Lord I’m leaving

11 Pipers Piping - 11 Joints a Popping

12 Drummers Drumming - 12 I hear angels humming



The only other thing I remember is always coming back to, “And I’m partially carefree” (I have no idea what that meant). Somewhere around “10 lords a leaping” and my “Oh Lord, I’m leaving” chant, I started to just walk out the door. Everyone was panting and moaning and taking breathing breaks (except for the girl in front of me, she was finished) and I don’t think anyone would have noticed that I was gone. It was so tempting. I took a quick look around the room and saw that I wasn’t the only one in there that looked like they were waiting on Lifeflight, so I decided to just keep going until someone sent me home…or until I finished....finished a broken man. Well that thing lasted 35-45 minutes at least. It was the longest, worst thing I have ever intentionally put myself through in my life. To be perfectly honest, I think I might have missed a round as there were still some people working after I was finished. Somewhere near the end, Pit Beagle walked by, looked at me and said, “Mark, you’re getting bigger”…best Christmas present ever!

When I climbed back into my car, red-faced, soaking wet and sounding asthmatic, I started thinking about that title: 12 Days of Christmas. No, no way...not unless it was written by the Grinch. I would have named this routine “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” because I am pretty sure you can’t really “do Christmas” while in traction or with a dislocated…body.


As I drove away from the torture chamber I tried to focus (and breathe) on the tasks at hand to make sure this day before Christmas went off as planned and that I didn’t get behind. I headed straight to my last two things on my shopping list. On the way I noticed that something in my car smelled…bad. I started thinking about it as I couldn’t identify the scent and the only thing I could think of was last Thursday’s chili run with Crockzilla in the back floorboard. I started thinking that maybe today’s warmer wet weather was bringing out the worst of some spilled chili. I pulled the car over to check. I had put the rubber floor mats in the back and I didn’t notice a spill, but I went ahead and put the floor mat in the trunk anyway. I got back into the car but the smell came back strong. I couldn’t figure out what in the world it could have been unless it was coming from the outside. I rolled the windows down and that helped which meant that it wasn’t coming from the outside. When I rolled them back up, the smell came back. Then it hit me….could it be me? No…I am not a smelly guy…am I? Yep, it was me…I was, at best, offensive. I couldn’t believe it! I think I had run out of water and had started sweating my liver. I know what liver smells like when it is cooking and this was pretty close to that. I was at the intersection where my normal, non-torture gym is located so I decided to just stay on track, run inside and take a quick shower because I just really didn’t want to run all over town as “skunk boy” and I was also afraid my car might never be the same.


The good news is that I had just the night before been given a new bottle of body wash from a friend of mine as a Christmas countdown gift; so I got to try it out. It has almond oil and shea butter and smelled like something yummy cooking in a bakery. By the time I was finished and covered with my secret weapon (world’s best smelling body lotion), I smelled delicious. I am not sure that should be the goal in a locker room but that’s what happened.

I got to my first little store and the cashier asked me, “Have you been eating Snickerdoodles? You smell like Snickerdoodles.” I told her that I had not but that I had new body wash. She asked, “They make Snickerdoodle body wash? I love Snickerdoodles!” I had to break the news to her that this was a layered thing, that I had a secret weapon and that I needed to pay and be on my way.


As I drove on to my next destination, smelling delicious, I once again noticed that the endorphins were running high and that my back and knees has zero, zero pain. I think it also had something to do with getting the blood racing all through the body. I was pain free and energized…and scented like a Snickerdoodle. I knew that the soreness was going to set in and that I would be moving on Christmas like the Tin Man on a rainy day. By the end of the day I had spent all my money plus a little bit more but I was still smelling good. I was Po-Perry.


All I know is that now, many hours have passed, this day is done, the gifts (minus one) are all wrapped, I only smell fresh and clean and rigor mortis is setting in. I think starting the day off the way I did put me into the Christmas spirit. I will confess that I usually get caught up in the secular Christmas and it is all about Santa, the tree, the gifts, etc. Today was different. This morning during my “hour of power” I thought about and called upon Baby Jesus many times. I was just praying that I got through it and that I didn’t do any permanent damage to myself, or finish after all the girls. So I guess, in a way, this morning was a bit of a religious experience and it caused me to focus on the real reason for the season. Who knew that muttering, “Sweet Baby Jesus just help me get through this” on Christmas Eve, would help a person rethink and refocus their Christmas? I am even thinking about celebrating His first miracle! After all, it is Christmas.

Merry Christmas Everybody!

And the sun will rise painting the sky
The birds will sing and dance through the air
The clouds will move and the grass will sway
It will start off as an ordinary day.
 
Then the earth will move and shake
The mountains will sink and the oceans rise
Muscle and beauty will forge into one
All will turn to gray beneath a blood soaked sun.
 
With one last heave and one last quiver
The earth will shutter like a horse after a race
All will be spent and all will be gone
The Indians were right all along.
                    
                                                       Mayan Angelou