THE PIECES OF ME

I had to go to Florida for a couple of days (with mom) to get some car stuff straightened out. That was an enlightening trip on so many levels. I will write more on that later. The level I will share right now is just how exhausting it was for me when I didn't actually DO anything. The drive wasn't really that long ~ about 4 to 5 hours. We got there easily in a day and stopped in at the game room where I used to work, and then met up with the people with whom we were bunking up with at church. We stayed for the Wednesday night dinner, and after I went to the Bible study, and mom went to listen to the choir sing. I like the pastor at that church (he leads the study) because he always has a unique perspective. The next day we took care of my car stuff, had lunch with a friend, played around a little bit, and met up with some more friends. We got back to the house about 8:30 that night and I thought I was going to die. I went straight to bed. I was one big migraine. Mom went and did it all again the next day. I stayed in bed and let her have at it. We came home today and I felt even worse. Meanwhile, I am thinking, I didn't actually DO ANYTHING. However, I feel like I've been run over by a truck and my migraine cranked up from its normal state of yucky/bad to freaking miserable. Oh, and while we were there was when I passed out in my sleep. Could these events be connected? Let's just say that I am glad to be home.


While I was lying in bed, not sleeping, I had time to think about the blog that I didn't feel good enough to get up and actually write. I considered lots of things. I remembered that I really needed to post on here the blog that I wrote about this wonderful friend that I had in high school who taught me so many valuable things about myself that I carry with me to this day. I wrote it back when I first started blogging, and it is still just on my facebook. Then I thought about the people who blog differently than I do, but how I like that. Which was what brought me back to the first thought about my high school friend, actually. She was the one who taught me that you can pull things that you admire from admire from others, and put your own unique twist on them to make them yours. It's a great lesson actually.


So, I spent my time in bed thinking about how to implement it. That can be the tricky part of any lesson. One of my fellow bloggers, Juliana, has started doing a quote blog occasionally. You can check out her blog by clicking on the link. I think that this might be something new or might be something old and reinstated. I am not sure because I am new. Either way, she does it in such a way that it is thought provoking and interesting. She changes it up each time she does it. I always walk away with something to think about. I think that is the point of any blog. Give me something to think about.

My brain got stuck because I am bit hardheaded and I want YOUR DAILY DOSE to be my "writing" blog. So, I spent too much time toying with the idea of creating yet another blog. I broke off a separate blog for my TV addiction. Well, I do think that was the right choice for that. Not everyone wants to read about my TV vice and my thoughts on it. However, the fact that I was lying in bed with a migraine suggested that maybe there were days that a "writing" blog might be setting the bar a bit high. Maybe just putting something out there that would make me feel good and laugh is okay, too. So, it took me several hours to work through what should have taken about five minutes. No, I am not going to create another blog for my non-writing stuff. It can go right here. It won't be every day. But some days, when I don't feel like writing, or The Think Tank, just doesn't cough anything up, well we will just laugh or think about someone else's pearls of wisdom that day.


Before I leave my high school friend behind for today.... I do promise to copy/paste that blog soon. I have to bring up another high school friend who has yet to have a blog written about her. And she will get something more lengthy than what I am about to put down here. There are people that you admire that you can pull from, and you are alike enough that you can find a way to bend their qualities that you like best to fit your personality. That is the friend I mentioned above. And then there are other people that you admire enormously, like this other friend that I had in high school. We had many of the same interests, but we were not alike. I speak without thinking. She is reserved. I walk headlong into trouble. She sees it from miles away. When I got married she thought to bring a sewing kit. Who does that? She does. And thank God. Because I needed one. I am clumsy. I always wanted to be the person who thought first and spoke later. I wasn't. I'm still not. I always wanted to have that breathy voice that sounds sexy. I don't. I'd like to be the girl who remembers to bring a sewing kit to important occasions, but I don't know where mine is. I'm not sure I have one. There are some people that you can admire the hell out of, but you can never be like them.

And, on that note, I think about my lovely Australian friend in Greece. In so many ways, she reminds me of my high school friend who thinks before she speaks, shows up with the sewing kit, and I bet she has a pleasing voice. It may not be soft and breathy, but I be it's pleasing to the ear. Moreover, she is well read, smart, not afraid to ask the tough questions, and she phrases it all daintily. I am not sure she would like that word. Prosaically is more accurate. I am more of a shoot straight from the hip sort of person. I am not saying these personality types don't mix. This high school friend of which I speak, well, we've been friends for over twenty years. And I have to think that she has found SOMETHING in me to admire or she would have given up on me a long time ago.


Anyway, if you're looking to read something completely opposite of my stuff... in other words... lyrical, prosaic, smart, thought-provoking, and evocative, please drop in on my Australian friend in Greece. Besides, she wrote a very nice blog dedicated entirely to me that made me cry. And that is something that my sewing kit toting friend would do if she were a writer, which she is not. She'd be more likely to compose a song. Oh God. I hope there's not a song out there about me...

JUST A DAY AT THE BEACH

After reading yesterday's blog on facebook (I multi-blog), my friend, Amy, by way of comment, told me I needed to get out more. Today I took one of the dogs for a walk and hoped that it would work as well as the Think Tank. It didn't. However, you get what you get. I did think a lot about my relationship with the outdoors since I was out there. The sun and I have never been friends. I courted it up until the summer of 1985 when I got a miserable sunburn. I peeled three times. I never could tan. The cycle was always the same: burn and peel. After that I broke up with the sun; a girl can only take so much, and I'd reached my limit. Sunscreen 40 and I were now best buddies.

On my dog walk I realized that I really didn't care much for outdoorsy things. I mulled that around a little bit. It occurred to me that I didn't have friends who did outdoorsy things either, or if they did they weren't doing them with me. Hmmmmm. In contrast, as a kid/teenager I loved camp. That didn't really make sense. It was outdoors. Note to self: spend more time later thinking about camp because it deserves a blog all its own.


When I first moved to Florida, I was determined to go to the beach every day. We lived about twenty minutes or so from Fernandina Beach. I am really not a water person as in "likes to swim" in it. However, I do like to walk the beach and/or sit under an umbrella and read a book. I knew that the exercise was good for me. The air was good for me. My doctor had stressed that the Vitamin D (as in sunshine) was good for me. That translated into I had to make nice with the sun. I was a good sport about the whole thing. I bought an easy chair to carry, what I thought was a good beach umbrella, and set off for my first beach day. My parents were working.


It turns out that I didn't have a good beach umbrella. Did you know that you can't just buy a big ole umbrella and shove it into the sand? It was a very good thing there weren't very many people at the beach that day. The wind caught that umbrella and it went tumbling down the beach end over end until it got stopped by a lady bending over to do something. I am screaming at the top of my lungs, "EVERYONE LOOK OUT! LOOK OUT! UMBRELLA ON THE LOOSE! BE CARE..." And then it was all over. It was a very fortunate thing that it wasn't the pole side that hit her bottom. If that were the case, this might be a very different blog; it might be coming to you from a jail cell.


Turns out beach umbrellas need an anchor thingy. Who knew? It's windy at the beach, and you have to anchor them down really well so that the wind doesn't pluck them up, and they don't end up implanted in someone's rear end. As it turns out, I was never strong enough to get the darned thing anchored down properly. I always ended up needing help from some man. If luck had been on my side, he would have been cute, single, heterosexual, working, and age-appropriate. That never happened. Not once. After a month of going every day I would have settled for single, heterosexual, and working. Still no luck. And then I met Bruce. I should have passed that by and kept going to the beach. You keep at something long enough and you're bound to catch a break. Coulda woulda shoulda.


I was going to tell you why I kept going to the beach. I almost got there before I sidetracked myself with the umbrella story. I love the sound, smell, and feel of the ocean. The vastness of the ocean offers perspective for my problems; it gives me another lens to view them through, and it gives me hope that all will be well. We all know, in theory, that there are many things bigger than we are, but seeing those things up close is reassuring. I know that I could walk out my front door right now and look at the sky and it would also qualify as boundless. However, it isn't the ocean. It doesn't sound, smell, or feel the same, and while it does drop water on me, it isn't fooling me.

So, for now, my shower remains my Think Tank. It is my place to clean out the cobwebs and restore mental order. It isn't as pretty as the ocean, but it has water, and I leave it smelling nicer and feeling better. Plus, there's no sand and I don't have to worry about flyaway umbrellas!