Dancing Flames

Sitting at the table and preparing to eat, I lit two purple candles on my Advent wreath. The flames wavered because of some unfelt and unseen draft. I could not see or determine why they flickered and fluttered and blazed.

I go through my life like the dancing, candle flames: one day I can have energy and the next day I am dragging and lazy. Just bending down to check on the baking cookies and taking the cookie sheets out of the oven can cause me to be short of breath and my heart to race.

This morning, I suddenly made the connection why the PHA logo is a flame. A candle, like the body, needs oxygen. Add oxygen to a flame, and it grows and becomes strong, but limit the amount of oxygen and the flame will flicker and smoke and die. As long as an ember remains, the flame can come to life with oxygen. That's where the hope of a cure can be found - in that ember. Keep praying for a cure and send in a donation to help if you can.

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Loneliness vs. Solitude

Is there a distinction between loneliness and solitude? Some might say, "Of course"; others, "I'm not sure." I think there is a definite difference between the two, but they can overlap.

I live in rural Wyoming, so by geography alone, I am isolated. Where does that fit in with the two camps? Tourists to my area shake their heads and say the countryside is lonely because it is barren and open with no sign of civilization for miles and miles. Can it be lonely? Well, yes. If you are driving hours to get to the next town of any size and you have a flat tire or car trouble, it can be very lonely. It does create independence and resourcefulness in an individual, that's for sure. Cell phones have bridged the gap some, but Wyoming's uninhabited expanses also have "limited" cell service, so I guess we are back to lonely.

Living in Wyoming requires driving long distances on sometimes deserted highways. I drive seven hours (one way) to see my PH doctor. I drive two hours (one way) just to see my cardiologist. Why would anyone in her right mind live in an area that is so isolated? It's easy: I love the mountains and the open spaces. Where the tourists see beauty and loneliness, I see beauty and solitude, a place to reflect on God, on nature, and on myself.

I once lived in the country where I could see two different mountain ranges, one in front and one in back of my home. I moved to town for the convenience of paved streets and city services, but I miss being able to see the mountains and the wildlife outside my door. These days, a short drive can provide me with a view of the mountains.

I was born and raised in Wyoming, but I have not lived here all my life. I lived in Japan for two years and taught on a US military base (Misawa AFB) for the Dept. of Defense. During those two years, I toured almost all of Japan, visited Hong Kong, Taipei, Malaysia, and the Philippines. I have traveled extensively in the United States, and there are many more places in this country and in the rest of the world that I would like to visit. No matter where I travel, I always return to my beloved Wyoming.

The summer of my first year in Japan I flew home. Driving home from the Denver airport, I pulled over when I got to the rim overlooking the valley where I lived, and I could not hold back the tears. I could see for miles and not see another individual; I could see the mountains practically stretching from horizon to horizon. My soul needed to see and to experience that vastness after the crowded cities of Japan. I find any city and being around a lot of people too confining. I desperately need my open spaces. I need to be alone: I require solitude.

Based on my location, I can have loneliness or solitude; however, isn't that true for anyone? Those who live in the middle of a teeming city can still be lonely. They can, however, create an area for personal solitude - a garden, a den, a park. Loneliness can be found even when surrounded by friends and acquaintances because it is a mental state, but then again, so is solitude. So I guess, if I appear lonely, I may be in a reflective state of solitude or a solitary state of loneliness.

Whatever mental state I am in, I am also in my beloved state of Wyoming.

To be continued. . .

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Loneliness, part II - PH Blues

PH by its very nature is a lonely and isolating disease because:

First, it is deemed an "invisible" disease since those who have it appear to be in good health, unless they wear obvious medical equipment like a Flolan pump or oxygen.

Second, it limits how much an individual can do on a given day creating an isolation of sorts.

Third, it is a mental, as well as a physical, disease. Individuals who have PH have to be mentally tough to deal with chronic pain, chronic ailments, chronic doctor appointments, and chronic moods. Friends and family don't understand that dealing with PH can be an independence issue.

Fourth, the PH patient's friends are few because they have to deal with reasons one through three. It is difficult to be spontaneous when arrangements must be made for medication and oxygen: sometimes requiring a larger vehicle just to haul some of the required equipment. Plans cannot be made weeks in advance because the PH patient may not have the energy required on the scheduled day, so a PH patient's friends have to be understanding of broken engagements and plans as well as vague commitments. Often, these friends don't want to hear how the PH patient feels or how frustrating the doctor's appoint was. They may not understand the mood swings of their friend and why the PH patient can be irritable about something that seems trivial.

Fifth, sometimes it is necessary to have a caregiver if there are no family members nearby. Finding a driver to take a PH patient to some medical appointments and tests can be a chore because it requires imposing on a friend or a family member. Frequently, it requires a loved one to take time off of work; thus, endangering that person's job. It is hard to give up independence and to admit that the illness cannot be dealt with alone.

Looking at the five reasons listed above, I can honesty say that PH has, at times, caused me loneliness and distress. "Loneliness vs. Solitude" explained that I personally require solitude in my life. I have always taken pride in my independent spirit, and in a few short years PH has shattered my independence. My friends are helpful, but I am careful not to impose on them too much so that they dread my calls. I hire someone to do my yard work and to shovel snow, jobs that I could easily do myself just years ago. I am thankful for the Internet because I can use it to reach out and expand my knowledge on any topic. I see it as the largest library on Earth right in my own home. The message boards allow me to connect with others (if you are reading this, that's you) who understand. This diary allows me to write my reflections on any topic and to expose my feelings. Thank you for patiently reading my rants and ramblings. My writing is forcing me to look closer at who I am and why I am that person. I am a PH patient, but I am not patient with my PH.

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Tumbling Tumbleweeds

On windy, winter days, it is not unusual to see tumbleweeds rolling across the road and sometimes even down the street. The sight triggers a subconscious thought of old western movies and TV shows with the cowboys swaying in the saddle and singing, "Drifting along with a tumbling tumbleweed."

On the open range, these weeds roll and tumble for miles, scattering their seeds, and eventually, they pile up in fence corners until the wind direction changes. They are at the mercy of the wind.

Recently, I saw a tumbleweed Christmas tree in a car showroom. The tumbleweeds had been sprayed white and Christmas lights were placed in and around the stacked tumbleweeds. It was beautiful. These nuisance weeds that are the ugly duckling of the plant world were transformed into something useful and attractive.

If you get the yen to build your own tumbleweed tree, I strongly advise that you find them piled in a fence corner rather than try to chase the nomads over the open range.

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Scrappy Ladies

I love scrap quilts because they are usually colorful, unique, and serve a purpose. The quilts that my mother constructed contained scraps of dresses or other family garments. Every scrap quilt is a miniature history lesson.

Mom saw potential quilt patterns everywhere. One time she stopped and gazed at the tiles on the floor and exclaimed, "That would be a pretty quilt block!" She constructed quilts from all types of materials: flour sacks, cotton, polyester, Levi's, flannel, men's suits, wool, and even alfalfa seed sacks.

My two sisters and I share mom's love of quilting. The three of us have traveled to Sisters. Oregon and to Duluth, Minnesota just to attend quilt shows, and after the trips we each made a quilt as a keepsake.

My sisters prefer purchasing coordinating fabrics for their creations, but I am drawn to the scrap quilt, using whatever fabric I can find or have on hand. No matter what fabrics we use, the finished products have captured history.

If you know someone who quilts or is thinking of beginning, you must share the two links that I have listed below. These links offer over 1,600 free quilt block patterns (traditional and paper-pieced) plus some wonderful tips and tools. The pages are listed as alphabetical, but they are not completely in that order. Have fun browsing and quilting.

Quilt blocks A - J http://www.quiltbus.com/Free-Quilt-Blocks.htm

Quilt blocks K - Z http://www.quiltbus.com/Free-Quilt-Blocks-II.htm

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Ultimate Rejection

Earlier this week I received an invitation in the mail for a staff recognition luncheon. The luncheon was today at in the Commons of my school. I had some gifts to deliver to some of my colleagues, so I decided to do both in one trip. I should have stayed home because I came away disappointed, frustrated, and angry.

I had anticipated visiting with my friends and catching up on the two months since I started my disability leave. For 25 years, I worked with 65% of the 100 people present. Some of them greeted me warmly but then avoided me during the lunch. I felt like a stranger, an interloper, and many treated me as such.

I got my plate and asked a group if I could join them. Since I was being avoided and ignored, I engaged a new staff member in a conversation. After the meal, I greeted some individuals that I felt especially close to, and they awkwardly accepted my hug. I have never felt so uncomfortable with people I know. In the future, I will not go out of my way to see any of these individuals. Obviously, I am not a good judge of character or friendship.

The highlight of my afternoon was the holiday bonus check, given to each staff member. Maybe I should say it was the highlight until I got to the bank. I could not deposit the check because it was not signed. Arrrrrgh! That was an appropriate ending to my frustrating afternoon.

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Get Real

Possibly the worst way to spend an hour is to watch a "reality" show on TV. I just do not see why these shows attract faithful viewers. I detest how the "contestants" manipulate and demean those around them just so they can qualify to win a sum of money, and when they are voted off/fired/released they gripe and complain and bash their fellow contestants. What ever happened to sportsmanship?

I worry about the children that watch these shows and then emulate what they see. I doubt that the parents that watch with their children in the room spend any time discussing what they are viewing and how it is right/wrong. Do they explain to the children that nearly all of these reality shows are scripted and are not reality at all?

I am a strong believer in competition, but the deplorable behavior displayed in "reality" shows is becoming acceptable in our society. I fear that if we do not limit this type of "entertainment" our society is going to deteriorate.

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Easy Come, Easy Go

Well, I finally got the missing signature on my bonus check. Yea! Unfortunately, Murphy heard about my windfall, and so it is already spent on my teeth. I have been having a nagging ache in a tooth for about three months, and yesterday, it turned into a full-blown toothache. This morning, I begged my dentist's receptionist to squeeze me in for an x-ray. She did. Then, a former student who also works in the dental office gave me her appointment this afternoon.

The dentist tried to find my roots as he was attempting a root canal because the tooth was already filled and had a crown. He could not find the roots as hard as he tried. He gave me four recommendations: go to a specialist for a root canal, get an implant, pull the tooth and get a bridge, pull the tooth and do nothing. The cost ranges from $4,100 to $1,500. Yikes! I have decided to have the tooth pulled and get a bridge. So after Christmas, I will be in the chair.

So much for a Christmas bonus to splurge on myself. In an odd way, I guess this dental work is a gift to myself. I just wish it weren't go darned expensive.

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Safe Haven

Loose shopping carts are pet peeves of mine. If I have the time and energy, I will round up loose carts in the parking lot around my vehicle and either put them in the corral or take them into the store. From my observation, the people who are the most courteous about returning their carts or putting them in the corral are those in the handicapped parking areas.

I have come to the conclusion that the safest place in the parking lot to prevent getting dings from loose shopping carts is right next to the shopping cart corral. Why? Very few people ever return carts to the corral. They prefer to leave the cart in the middle of the space next to them, roll the cart to the back of the car in the space next to them, or just push the cart once it is empty to see where it hits.

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Mean Mildred

It sounds like a lot of you can relate to Mean Mildred, so I will share her story. I got this tale from a computer pal about four years ago when Mean Mildred took up residence in my life. I hope that you can see an application for your life, too.


Mean Mildred by Gary B. Swanson

John Forester's heart must have just about stopped when he went to his barn one weekend morning and discovered that a 1,200 pound pregnant moose had decided to take up residence there.

Because his property is near Grand Teton National Park in northwestern Wyoming, Forester was used to seeing an occasional moose, but never quite this close. And it looked as though this moose had come to stay. Plenty of water and hay under a covered roof - what more could she ask?

So when Forester tried to get into the barn to feed his horses, Mean Mildred, as he named her, charged at him and drove him off. He returned with a rifle and fired a couple rounds in the air, but "She turned right around and turned her ears flat and came right at me," he said.

He dived into the safety of some nearby bushes. By Monday morning Forester had to escort his kids to their school bus with a rifle in his hand. So he called the Game and Fish department, who sent officer Tom Tillman to see what he could do to get Mean Mildred out of the barn - after all, the horses were getting hungry.

Officer Tillman tried a gun that shoots whistling firecrackers. Mildred wasn't impressed. "I chased her around for a while," Tillman said laughingly, "and then she chased me around for a while. She was pretty aggressive." Tuesday morning Tillman decided to take more drastic measures. He returned with a tranquilizing gun, but the moose nonchalantly shook off the darts. Then, as the two men discussed further tactics, Mean Mildred leaped up, bolted over the fence, and ran away.

Sometimes a Mean Mildred moves into our lives, an obstacle that prevents us from achieving a goal. Whatever we try to do, nothing seems to work. The obstacle stands tenaciously in our way, and we feel powerless to get by it. God has promised to help us overcome whatever Mean Mildreds we may have in our lives, and I am counting on that promise.

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Operation Christmas

I had planned to travel to my sister's home on Saturday, but a storm is predicted, so I am heading out a day early. That means everything has been pushed into hyper-drive. I feel like I am getting ready for a military campaign rather than a making a Christmas trip. I have made lists of things to do and things to take with me, but I am always afraid that I will forget something important. Has it ever occurred to me to make a master list and just use it each time I travel? Well, no. Hmmm, I think I will do that this time, if I remember.

The mail and the paper delivery have been stopped. I still need to deliver a gift to my neighbors who keep an eye on my home when I am gone to inform them of my trip and expected return. Their gift is by the front door so I will not forget. I will need to call the girl who shovels my walk in case it snows while I am gone.

The travel concentrator, liquid O2 reservoir, cannulas, and tubing were delivered yesterday. The man who delivered it was kind enough to load them into my car, and both are securely belted in place. Now, I have started a pile of things to be loaded tomorrow. Distilled water for my CPAP, CPAP bag (actual machine will be added at the last minute), and medications make up the pile right now, but each time I pass it, I think of something else to add. I must remember to add the emergency bag that I keep in the front closet that has two bottles of compressed O2, more cannulas and tubing to use if I am stranded and my liquid reservoir is not accessible or, heaven forbid, empty or defective.

Oh, how I long for those days of just throwing clothes into a suitcase and heading out. Oh my gosh, I haven't packed my suitcase yet!

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Hitting the Road

Everything is packed for my trip, and I am ready to hit the road for Denver in about ten minutes. If the roads are clear, I will be at my sister's house in seven hours.

If I have access to a computer, I will try to keep this diary updated while I am gone, and if not, I will be home again on December 28th or 29th.

I plan to enjoy every minute with my family and pray that you enjoy your family time, as well.

Merry Christmas

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Holiday Update

I got home late this afternoon, and I have accomplished a lot, but the progress is not easily seen. My house looks like a cyclone has gone through it: mail sorted into piles on the floor (bills, letters, magazines, catalogs, junk), purchases taken out of bags and ready to be put away, newspapers stacked by date and ready to be read, laundry in various stages of being done, gifts organized and ready for thank you cards to be sent, etc. Hopefully, all will be put away by this weekend.

I had a fabulous trip! I ran into some nasty weather on my return trip, but nothing that I hadn't experienced before.

My sister and I spent the week before Christmas preparing food. We baked cookies and pies, made soups and main dishes and froze them for quick meals when everyone arrived. We changed linens and dusted. We did some last minute shopping and then wrapped the gifts. I enjoyed our time together.

I was able to see and visit with my nephew and his family all of whom I had not seen in three and a half years when they moved from Wyoming to Florida and then to Arizona. His children have become teenagers in the interim and are literally addicted to the Internet. It was nearly impossible to pry them away from the computers to visit or to play games. All they wanted to do was chat online with friends they see every day at school. I could not understand this behavior. Both of them had not seen their maternal grandmother (with whom they have a close relationship) for two and a half years, but they spent less than half an hour with her when she came by my sister's home on Christmas Eve and on Christmas Day. They missed some great times: playing pool and foosball, working on jigsaw puzzles, playing cards and board games and watching movies. I realize these activities may not have as appealing as the computer and the Internet, but they had traveled fourteen hours to spend Christmas with both their paternal and maternal grandparents, not to be mesmerized by the computer and the Internet.

One evening eight of us were fortunate enough to attend a NHL game between the Phoenix Coyotes and the Colorado Avalanche. It was an exciting game. I do not understand all of the nuances of the game, but it was fun to watch the skillful skaters. I was awed by their speed. I had fun.

A weak flu bug made an appearance during my visit. My sister felt sick on the Thursday before Christmas, my brother-in-law was not up to par on Christmas Day. Then on the day after Christmas, the bug found me. I spent the day worshipping the porcelain god and lazing on the sofa. Dry toast and 7Up helped to calm my stomach. The next day I felt fine. I think the three of us were so tired and worn down that the bug took up residence for a while.

Thanks to all who sent Christmas cards. I picked up my mail this afternoon and spent the evening reading the cards and the recipes. It was fun to see all the different postmarks and to find surprises inside the envelopes. I loved Annie's confetti, the ribbon and the accompanying verse. Sheri's daughter Heather even sent a note and a sticker. The cards are hung on my kitchen doors and will remain there until mid-January.

Better close and get ready for bed. It has been a long day.

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Pinocchio

I have no strings on me!

I feel like a liberated Pinocchio today as I sit in my comfortable recliner and submit this entry. I spent some of my Christmas bonus on myself and purchased an Apple AirPort, which allows me to connect to the Internet without wires. I could not be more pleased. I can have the allusion of wireless Internet without the extra expense. The AirPort has an internal modem that acts as my dial-up connection, and then it communicates via wireless card to my computer. I don't understand much more about how it works. At least I am now free to use the Internet on my laptop anywhere in my house. I almost feel like dancing and singing, "I have no strings on me."

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Location, Location

Driving to Denver, I was saddened to see familiar farms and productive fields being covered with streets, roads, homes, businesses, and parking lots. The city is on the move, and its progress to the north and east is phenomenal. My last visit to the area was in July, and much has changed since then. Whole shopping centers have been built and are open for business. Homes and streets are woven in the contours of the land.

Progress is inevitable and necessary, but I think that urban developers should consider the productivity of the land before planning and building cities and subdivisions. Based on my agricultural background, I see the need to preserve prime farm ground. I would like to see urban sprawl limited to unproductive land. I cannot understand why Americans are determined to destroy prime agricultural ground by covering it with asphalt, cement, and buildings. I believe that one day our country will desperately need productive farm ground to feed our growing population, and it will all be covered with asphalt.

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Catalog Mania

On New Year's Eve I like to complete some project that I have been putting off, so I cleaned my catalog basket, which is frequently packed with a variety of shopping opportunities. I am on the mailing list of numerous companies, and the catalogs pile up quickly. I enjoy catalog shopping because I can shop in the comfort of my own home and don't have to fight crowds.

Every time I receive a catalog in the mail, I go "window" shopping. I prefer catalog shopping to online shopping because I can take my time and really study the merchandise and dream. I look through each book, and if an item catches my eye, I will fold the bottom of the page up making the top corner just appear at the top of the catalog. If I mark the item in two consecutive catalogs, I will look at it more carefully and maybe even order it. This procedure helps to eliminate impulse buying. I rarely order the items I mark, but just marking them satisfies my urge to shop.

When the basket begins to look shabby or over-crowded, the unwanted and outdated books are placed in the recycle bin. I need to take the accumulated catalogs and newspapers to the recycler this coming week.

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Instinct or Choice?

Instincts are amazing. How do animals know when to do something critical? How do birds know to fly south in the winter? How do the Monarch butterflies know to return to Mexico every year?

Recently, I saw a large herd of cattle huddled in a hollow, their steaming breath swirling around them. How did they all know to go to this area to be protected from the howling wind?

Watching the movie "March of the Penguins," I marveled at the instincts that drove the majestic birds to walk 70 miles on the ice to breed, 70 miles back to the sea to feed, and 70 miles back to feed the young. The females' return was timed within a day or two of the birth of the chicks. How did they know? How did the males know to huddle together and to rotate so every bird had a turn on the inside of the mass as well as on the outside edge? How do they know?

Last year before the tsunami hit, it is reported the animals headed inland and many were spared the terrifying wave. Do humans heed instincts or have we become blinded by the foolish belief that we control the world?

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Long Overdue

It is nearly impossible to see the work that goes on behind the scenes of any successful production. Sometimes things happen so smoothly that it appears effortless. I know better. I know the amount of coordination, effort, and dedication that is required.

So to all the volunteers at PHcentral, I say, "Thank You." Thank you for your unselfish gift of time. Thank you for keeping the website functional, for being a moderator, for organizing the data, for answering questions, for finding funding, and for just being you. Thank you from the very soles of my feet. This site has helped to keep me informed about PH. It has helped me to cope with my limitations. It has kept me sane.

I know that my expressions of gratitude are long overdue. Today, I wanted you all to know that I appreciate all of your efforts, no matter how small. Thank you PHcentral.

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Sending the Signal

In the days before cell phones, my mother had a signal to call workers in from the field for meals or for emergencies. As dinnertime (the noon meal on our farm) neared, she would say, "Go tell your brother dinner is ready." Often, she did not mean for me to go speak to him, but to send him the signal.

A quick glance out the window determined just how much time I had, for it depended on the tractor's location in the field. If he was headed away from the house, then I had time to wait for him to get to the end of the field and turn around, but if he was headed toward the house, then I would quickly grab one of the white tea towels hanging on the oven door and head outside.

Standing on the step, I would wave the towel back and forth over my head, making it snap in the air. I learned at an early age that it was necessary to keep flapping that towel until I got a signal back from him - a wave of his hat or arm or a flashing of the lights. If he was looking back to check on the equipment, he would miss the signal, thus, making another round in the field. When that happened, it meant the food would have to be kept warm for another 30 minutes or more. It didn't take me long to learn to wait for that all-important, confirmation signal.

In today's world, I really doubt that cell phones will be replaced with a white tea towel, but wouldn't it be nice to quiet the annoying buzzing, singing, and beeping of the cell phone for just a while? What do all of these people have to talk about that is so important that it cannot wait until they get home or to the office?

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Do You See the Rose?

My neighbor came over for a visit yesterday and brought a small rose plant as a belated Christmas gift. The blooms are pale pink and so delicate and beautiful, but hidden in the foliage were thorns - those pesky, prickly appendages that turn pleasure into pain for the unwary.

PH is a pesky thorn in my usually rosy life. Those around me do not see the thorn; they only see the rose. They see that I do not use my oxygen all the time, so I must not need it. They see me out walking and wonder if I can do that why I am not working. They say that I look good, but they don't feel the ache deep in my chest. They don't feel the panic when my breath doesn't come easily. They don't know that each step can be torturous because sometimes my legs feel like lead weights. Yes, they only see the rose.

Most days I see the rose, but I am always aware of the thorn. PH is always on my mind. A doctor once told me not to think about my PH so much. I nearly laughed in his face. Now, I realize that he sees the rose and not the thorn. No matter how good (rosy, if you will) my day is, I still have to think about PH when I wear oxygen, when I take my medications, when my heart races when I walk across the room or just sit in a chair. Yes, the thorn is always there, hidden in the foliage.

I pray that you have a rose-filled day, but keep an eye out for the thorn.

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Adding Insult to Injury

I am angry with myself. I have allowed myself to be insulted and made to feel guilty for putting my health and myself first. Yesterday's encounters along with many others since I filed for disability in October makes me wonder if I will ever be allowed to walk about freely without being questioned. It nearly forces me to skulk about to avoid people and these awkward times. Why should I be forced to go shopping at ungodly hours just to avoid people I may know, people who seem to be judging my every movement? I could handle the questions if the individuals really wanted to know how I was doing, but they ask in such a manner that makes me feel judged and like I am deliberately avoiding going to work.

While I was getting a haircut yesterday, the woman in the next chair (the grandmother of two of my former students and a woman that I have seen maybe twice in the last five years) turned to me and said, "Why aren't you using your oxygen?" I was so shocked at her rudeness that I stammered a reply that I only need oxygen when walking. (I wanted to tell her my Helios was hanging on the coat rack if she wanted to check. I felt like telling her that I could produce a note from my doctor if she wanted even more proof.) She arched her eyebrows at my reply and gave me a look that said, "Why aren't you working if you aren't wearing your oxygen?"

Not five minutes later, a mother of one of my former students entered the shop. She commented in a joking manner that now that I am a "lady of leisure" I can have my hair done while "everyone else is working." This woman works in my doctor's office, so she knows better than most people about my health status. I was insulted by her comments even though I am sure she was attempting to be funny.

Maybe I am being too sensitive about all of this, but I am tired of being treated like a child who is skipping school. I am tired of being judged and interrogated. I want to be treated like an adult. I want to be able to shop and do other errands without having to explain to people why I am out of my house. Is this too much to ask?

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I'm a Stripper

I have become an accomplished stripper! A stripper of fabric, that is. While in Denver, I went to a shop that sells scrap fabric by the pound, and I purchased 40 pounds. Since I have been home, I have been stripping the fabric into 1.5 inch strips and rolling the strips into balls. I am glad to say that I am finished with that segment of the project. It is messy and time consuming. I will use the strips to make the rag rugs that I told you about earlier. I enjoy making the rugs on the frame that I got from my mother. It is relaxing to weave the fabric into a rug.

I may even use some of the strips to knit some shopping bags on size 19 needles. I found a book that has some easy patterns, and it looks like the bags can be made quickly.

I know that a fabric stripper doesn't get as much "exposure" as other strippers, but at least I won't be thrown in jail.

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Pathways of Thought

Nearly twenty years ago, I found the following on a calendar. I think its words can be applied to my life in 2006 as much as 1986.

"I had not lived there a week," wrote Henry Thoreau about Walden Pond, "before my feet wore a path from my door to the pond side; and though it is five or six years since I trod it, it is still quite distinct. The surface of the earth is soft and impressible by the feet of men, and so with the path the mind travels."

We might well stop and consider the paths we are making in our minds each day. The thoughts we keep repeating, day after day, will wear a path of habit, which will determine our destiny. A path of hate thoughts will lead to ultimate disaster. A path of love thoughts will lead to joy and happiness. A path of success thoughts will lead to success. A path of positive thoughts about health will lead to good health. Our lives will follow the pathways created by our thoughts.

Going through my classroom collection of quotes, I rediscovered this gem, but I have no idea now who wrote these prophetic words. I have often heard Dr. Phil talk about internal dialogue and knew that I had to work on that, but this old, yellowing calendar page made the point very clear to me. I am going to try to travel some new pathways of thought.

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Endless Season

It has to be the longest retail season - the season of chocolate candy displays. It begins in September with Halloween candy, then in November the Christmas candy is placed on shelves, immediately followed by Valentine's candy, which is replaced by the Easter candy.

When I first notice the Halloween candy on display, I groan because I know how difficult is will be for me for the next eight (yes, eight) months. Think about it. It first appears in September and disappears in April. I avoid going down the seasonal aisle at the stores, but sometimes it is placed in areas where it cannot be avoided. By the store's front door! How sneaky is that?

I love chocolate, and unfortunately it loves me, too. Once I give into the temptation and buy a bag, it is too late.

The remaining months of the year - May through August - are pretty safe, so far. However, once the candy companies find or create a holiday around which to market their addictive merchandise, I will need to find someone to do my shopping.

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Thinning Patience

My patience is no longer thin; it is worn out. Maybe it is my Type A personality. Maybe it is the cold weather. Maybe it is cabin fever. Maybe. . .

The good news is that my disability has been approved with payments beginning in February. The bad news is that I cannot get my employer to give me some straight answers about all the paperwork that I must now complete to ensure that my health insurance will continue. I am petrified about losing my health insurance due to a mix-up in communication.

Questions rattle in my mind: should I immediately change to the new policy or use the COBRA insurance that is considerably cheaper than the new policy, is the extra expense of the new policy worth the peace of mind that I will have by changing immediately, when does my sick leave run out, when would COBRA start, can I still collect my sick pay once disability payments begin? I can't get any of these questions answered, and it is driving me crazy.

My disability insurance agent advised me to get all communication, concerning health insurance in writing, but my health insurance provider is reluctant to do that. I wrote to my employer and the health insurance provider over a month ago and still have not received a reply to my questions. I am panicked (irrationally, I'm sure) that they are delaying on purpose. Arrgh!

I am the first employee in my school district to go on disability, so I am a "test case." When I heard those words, a chill of fear and doubt caused the hair on my nape to prickle.

If patience is a virtue, then I must not be very virtuous right now.

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