Happy Halloween!

The Hubs went to the store to buy me a styrofoam pumpkin so I could (try to) make something like this for Thanksgiving...

Unknowing what my pumpkin intentions were, he came home with this...  

I giggled upon seeing it, but freaking love it! 

Scary pumpkin face lights up and changes colors!

(Hubs gets 100 brownie points for this one!)

Borrowed

I'm borrowing today's post from an article I read on line. Below is an excerpt from it, regarding a parent/child relationship but I find it applicable to any relationship. The last line, which I have underlined, couldn't be sum up torturous relationships any better.

... "Only the children of narcissistic abusers know how easy it is to both see ourselves being manipulated and to still go on enduring it. If I didn't get in touch with her, wasn't I the monster she had always said I was? Well-meaning people told me it was my last chance to "make amends," and reminded me, as if I did not know, that death is forever. But I could feel in every part of my newly joyful soul that it wasn't possible to have a healthy relationship with my mother. What's more, I did not want a relationship with her.

I wondered, did that really make me cruel? Would I regret not inviting the woman who brought me into the world to the best day of my life? Was I such a monster for choosing my own well-being?

Unraveling all of the guilt of letting go of my mother took far longer than it should have. Instead of berating myself for not being a more perfect child, or a more loving, accepting, forgiving person, I should never have held so tightly to the belief that it was my duty to endure."

Seriously?

Per usual operating procedure while attending an annual medical exam, I was instructed that, "The pink (gown) closes in front and (to) place the other over your lap". Yeah nurse-lady, I know the drill. I've done this routine more times than I care to remember or experience.

As she leaves me to my privacy I begin the race. It's an all out war to unfold and don the paper items, without tearing them, before the doctor enters the room. I pick up the gown and sure enough, it's like a roll of tape gone bad and stuck to itself. I can't seem to peel the tissue apart. The floor at my feet is beginning to look like a shredder over flowed as I attempt to open my paper dress for wearing. The shredding is quickly followed by a rip which now insures that any remaining dignity I had in trying to cover myself has just been tossed out the window.    

A few minutes more and I'm finally into my tree-made perforated patient garb and I throw the white, over sized paper-towel like sheet onto my lap. After this, I plop down on the exam table and wait. And wait some more. Soon, the panic sets in. My blood pressure is elevated, I'm nervous and worst of all, I'm sweating. The countdown to total paper-clothing-saturation has begun. I wonder just how long I can sit on my toilet-paper gown before the sweat enables it to become completely stuck to my a$$. I found out. It takes me about 15 minutes to sweat through a paper dress.

Yep. Fifteen minutes later I heard the simultaneous knock on the door and entrance of the doctor. We chit chat. She updates her files. And then I'm given the dreaded instructions to "scoot down" on the table. Damn. 

I try to lift myself off the paper dress but it's too late. As I "scoot" I can feel the fibers shredding like a slow-cooked chuck roast done to perfection. As I continue to roll my bottom down the table I envision a scene similar to that of a party cannon shooting New Year's Eve celebratory confetti everywhere. Lovely. "Oh well", I think to myself. This wet, kleenex-like wad of what was once a gown can't be the only instance my doctor has seen. And if it is, then hell, I'm glad she's not mentioning it. 

As I'm finally paroled from this miserable experience, I am instructed to get dressed. Now that I am upright, I see the paper-shrapnel everywhere. The gown. The table cover. The lap cover. None has survived intact. It's as if a bored kitten got a hold of a roll of toilet paper. I scoop up my "papers" and head towards the garbage can to throw the evidence of mass destruction away. As I leave the office, I smile thankful the next visit won't be for another year. Hopefully, the healthcare industry can improve their gown design by then. Here's hoping.

Opus

It's been a week and a half since my last post. I haven't put myself on any type of writing schedule so it's not like I'm "behind" in my goals or anything. Rather, I haven't had the energy or time to sit down and write. Much less, feel like I had anything of value to share. 

I could tell you that the past 10 days have been insane with running straight from work to doctors appointments, band performances and volunteering. I could type that my weekend was full of early morning appointments and family activities. I could share that any minimal "down time" in between these events was filled with laundry, cleaning, cooking and grocery shopping but I'm guessing most people have some variance of these responsibilities too, making them ordinary and not unique to me. 

So, as I review all the "stuff" that has happened, and all the things that got cancelled or rearranged in order to accommodate it, I am reminded of the movie, Mr. Holland's Opus. In one of the final scenes, Mr. Holland sings the song, "Beautiful Boy" by John Lennon. I find the line below the most poignant...  

"Life is what happens when you're busy making plans..."

Speaking of Mr. Holland's Opus, below is an excerpt from a speech given in the movie which always makes me reevaluate what success really is. Referring to the life work of Mr. Holland, who has seemingly failed his goal of writing world famous music... 

     "...I have a feeling that he considers most of his life misspent... So it might be easy for him to consider himself a failure. But, he would be wrong because I think he's achieved a success far beyond riches and fame. There is not a life in this room that you have not touched, and each of us is a better person because of you..."

So is success the "big" stuff in life like getting the 6-figure paying job or being rich and famous? Or is success grown over time in the small stuff? Like the day to day actions that touch people, the day to day conversations, encouragement, and lessons taught and learned that change the people around you? Maybe it's both. Perhaps when referring to the definition of success we are all too often focused on looking for that big, shiny opus in life to notice all the sparkling gems of achievement already scattered at our feet. Here's to keeping your head up, and looking down every once in a while. 

Little Things...

Today's been kinda "blah". It hasn't been a bad day, and I'm not in a bad mood or anything of the sort. It's just one of those semi-gloomy, Fall, can't seem to get motivated kind of days I suppose. Despite that, I'm choosing to focus on the little things today that made me smile...

A visit from a super cheery, out of town, co-worker...

Listening to my new I-tunes downloads, particularly Idina Menzel's new album, "Idina". If you don't know Idina, and let's face it most don't, she played Maureen in the Broadway play, "Rent", Elphaba in "Wicked", has been on the TV show, "Glee", and most recently saw fame as the singing voice of Elsa from the Disney movie, "Wicked"...

I ate three healthy meals today, with only two of them having food items that got stuck in the new holes in my head (wisdom teeth sockets)...

I'm blogging...

I did Yoga! And let me tell you, after having taken multiple months off from any type of decent workout, it was indeed a workout.  Yikes.

I received my Young Living oil products today! I have Lavender to diffuse at bedtime, and am trying a new energy blend to inhale. Here's to hoping it helps perk me up and makes for a better tomorrow!

People

I have a "gift". People talk to me. Random, total strangers tell me their life stories. I don't do anything to invite these people to talk to me, they just do. I never know how to cut them off, even if I'm in a rush, so I just listen. I figure that if they need to talk to me (for whatever their reasons) they must not have anyone else to talk to. Or, who knows, maybe they just talk to everyone. Sometimes I walk away from these listening sessions in awe, and other times I just walk away dumbfounded scratching my head. Mainly it's the later of those two.

I seem to be on a streak these days. Over the past week my off-site customer told me all about the last ten years of her financial woes and work problems (for hours)...my dental hygienist told me about her divorce and dating life of the past 30 years and a recent cab driver I encountered spewed monk-like wisdom about marriage, love and life for the entire ride while inquiring all about my marital and life statuses.  

Today's story occurred while I was shopping for a few household items. Upon check out, the cashier asked me why I was buying cleaning items on a Saturday night because I should be out filling up my dance card instead. Feeling the need to somewhat defend my apparent pathetic-ness, I muttered a weak reply of something like, "I'm recovering from wisdom teeth removal and my head is killing me...". He quickly shared his own wisdom tooth story, stories of recovery, life, God, healing and well, I lost track of what else he said because all I really wanted to do was get in my car and cry out of frustration due to the nagging pain in my head. He eventually put his hands on mine and quoted the Bible in efforts to "put some healing" on me and said he appreciated me. I'm not sure as what? A customer? A fellow wisdom tooth removal recipient? A person who wold listen to him? 

Whatever the case, these experiences at least gave me something to focus on instead of my nagging headache, if only for a moment or two. Fingers crossed for a better feeling day tomorrow!