Thursday’s Sarcasm

I’m changing up the title of my Thursday’s  gadgetry. I think some believe that I’m serious. Those who know me best, know I laughed over something, and had to share it. I think the title change is more appropriate.

Today, however, I’m sharing a gadget I can’t live without.

That would be this ice cream scoop. 6K2A1413

This one is from Cutco Knives, and is perfect.

My husband and I have differing opinions as to how to use it, but it has a point on the end to stick into the ice cream, twist it a little, and a perfect scoop is produced.

Not that a perfect scoop matters because it won’t be lasting long.

The best thing about this scoop, if you wear it out, the company will replace it. Free of charge! No matter how long you’ve used it.

Happy Thursday!

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Visitors from Heaven

I have blogged about the container I keep the pennies I find in awkward places. This type of stuff happens when I feel I want to give up.

I started finding 2013–the bright shiny pennies, the year of my sister’s passing, in odd places as well. Yes, I’m crazy, but I’ve already established that. :D

My visits from Heaven.

These moments give me encouragement just when I need it. They make me stop, breathe, and remind myself to persevere. I smile, place my found pennies in the jar, and remember their words of encouragement.

While working in the yard, which I haven’t done in a long time, and is one of my favorite places to just be, I would be met by a yellow butterfly–always.

Stuff 'em Down Okay, just go with this…I know there are a ton of yellow butterflies, but I like to think that the one that sits on a branch right by me for a very long time, is reminding me it’s time to be. The butterfly reminds me of who I am, and what I can do to improve my growth. It’s my dad letting me know he has my back.

Since I usually have racing thoughts, when I do something that may cause injury, I focus on every movement I make. In other words, I don’t let my mind continue to wander this-and-that way, I think before I take that first step on or off a ladder.

I’m the girl with her skirt tucked into her panties, totally unaware, I kid you not. The girl who tried to maneuver a hill with high heels and books in her hands and trips in front of many classes in session–head first. I have no clue what my skirt did, and I don’t want to know.

The girl, who can fall down hollow stairs to get some lunch from the restaurant next door. Cream of broccoli soup was my choice for lunch that day. My choice that day was also to wear a black suit and high heels. I became the day’s entertainment for the drivers of the busy street, returning to my office without lunch because I was wearing it. Closed my office door only to remember the lesson why it’s not smart to open the top drawer of a huge file cabinet, and then open the bottom drawer.

I have many stories of my lack of gracefulness. What does that have to do with visits from my loved ones?

While painting the front window, a blue butterfly flitted around me and came to rest. The thing sat there quite a while.

6K2A1544It would be just like my sister to remember the yellow butterfly story, so she would sit there as a blue one. Waiting for me to notice. I was at the top of the ladder contemplating whether or not to grab my camera.

With each step down the ladder, I reminded myself what I was doing, move slow and maybe the butterfly will be there after I retrieve my camera. I made it down the ladder safely, but took the one step – well, actually 2 steps – up onto the porch. I completed the first step and was continuing to be hopeful the butterfly would be there when I returned with my camera

I tripped on the second step and fell spread eagle on the brick porch. I breathed a sigh of relief that I didn’t have my camera yet, but I wasn’t completely void of bruises and road rash–or maybe it would be called porch rash. No high heels were involved.

Got the camera, and guess what? The butterfly was gone. That, of course, was what I expected.

I looked around and found it on another bush, and of course it flitted away to a tree in our front yard, so I captured the underside.

This visit from my sister, reminding me to look outward and quit stewing on the inner turmoil. The one who listened to me bitch about something, and her response would always be—then change it, or turn it into something you love.

Yes, she would have made me work to snap this picture while watching me humiliate myself during the process. She was wise, but a sister-sister relationship is full of impish behavior.

Bad sense of humor, Barbara.

Really bad.

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If Dwayne Johnson can call himself a rock, then I can be a rock dweller

under a rock I wish to dwell (for clarification, not dwayne johnson)

a big rock

a place my ugly hides

over the top, others will climb, unaware who dwells beneath

no more pretending

no guilt by saying I’m okay

I’m not

hiding the fact that I want to fall in a heap

boo hoo until there are no more tears

a tantrum to rival

the kid awarded first place in the category of best tantrum

and someone will understand

someone will take over for me

that rock

a place I don’t have to explain why today isn’t good

just like yesterday

or the day before

a respite from trying to be what I believe others expect me to be

trying oh-so-hard to be who I am

move past the barrier which is holding me back

yes, that would be me

a desire to develop solutions

patiently wait for a day which will be mostly sunny

not mostly cloudy with a chance of severe weather

accepting who I am

void of ugly

the ugly that lied to me telling me I’m worthless

I believed it

dwelling under a rock is so appealing to me at this moment

to recharge

and begin a new day to fight

I’m fine, really – well, I did have some sort of revelation that I am denying because denial always works for me :D




like a leaf clinging in the dead of winter

so shall I


that rock will not be my residence

there’s too much beauty to be found




birduments over who gets the feeder









a beautiful waterfall tucked back off the road







time spent with family






the humor that can be found










that’s what I fight for

each and every day



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medication madness

So, a twofer today. Sweet but short. Wait! That should be short but sweet, and I seriously doubt the sweet part. :D

In a way, I’m quite frustrated with my life, but I’ll get over it.

My pill pusher has added another medication to my cocktail. This medication has certainly helped me sleep deeper and longer, and I don’t feel bad – well – the last two days haven’t been too bad.

However, the new medication has exacerbated my lack of time management, and I’ve created more chaos among my piles of things I want to do, not need to do. The need to do things take me all day to figure out, and sometimes two days.

I have stacks of fiction and non-fiction books to read, and I’m so far behind on reading blogs.

So, if you get a bunch of comments all at once, it means I’ve conquered my drug induced stupidity.

Wish me luck, because I’m going to get on a ladder to finish painting that stinkin’ window we have been working on forever. Unless my husband locks them up so that I can’t move them. Maybe a chair will work?

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Morbid, or inappropriate questions?

tis a cancer post I’ll be writing

I have a CT scan coming up in about two months. I’m not really obsessing over the build up of what could happen, because I won’t know until I’m given the results.

Living with depression is hell, however I have wondered what I would do if I were to be diagnosed with cancer again.

I’m going to repeat….the first time, I had surgery to remove a portion of my lung. No chemo or radiation. Three years in remission. Doctor’s keep telling me I shouldn’t see cancer again. But I doubt them.

My vision of treatment, is receiving poison in the form of chemo drugs, or radiation to target a tumor, which doesn’t sound very enjoyable—and it isn’t. A person is sick going through this process. Some spend many days in hospitals depending on the type of cancer they have been diagnosed with, or how they are responding to treatment.

I wonder, how much more life is gained from chemo? A month, couple of years, a decade?Is the quality of life great? Do doctors really know? No, because we are individuals, and our response is ours. If I had to decide, would I just go the course of palliative care?

Is an extra month or two, a couple of years or two, living as a sick person from the treatment actually worth it? Can life be embraced, and looking forward to the future, a possibility while receiving such treatment?

I understand that cancer is painful, but is chemo a better option than to simply live with the pain?

Do I want my family watch me whither to a shell of the person I am now?

When it is our time, we have no choice. We do have a choice as to how we live our lives. I really haven’t heard from cancer patients who survived years or decades. What are their lives like after the treatment?

Is the treatment ongoing until there is nothing left to torture us with?

Just the thoughts on my mind while struggling with time management this morning/afternoon.

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The Eye of the Storm? Or Maybe It’s Passed for Now

Other than the stupidity my new medication has created for me, I’m seeing in color. It feels good. I’m not even going to look over my shoulder to see if any dark clouds are following.

I forced myself, but it didn’t really seem like forcing, because I just went. My photography club had a photo walk yesterday in a small town close to us. This means we meet, and everybody scatters, meeting back up for lunch. Which means I walked around the town alone! A rather large step for me and my confidence.


The day started off on the wrong foot, because I overslept. Apparently, the medication I’m taking for insomnia is working wonderfully.

I love the quaintness of the little towns, and this town was full of it.

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I may have a glass of wine every one to six months, but this sign spoke to me as well.


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This one was after my heart, while I do like flowers, I like to see them in the ground….growing as they should.

Coffee and Fudge? Shouldn’t they be a part of the food pyramid?



However, I’m always reminded that I remain a Yankee.

I do admire the Southern allegiance to their history, but so glad we finally stopped the slavery.

I’m a wee bit sore in the legs, which is no surprise since I have been inactive for so long. Leaving the couch was nice.


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I knew that today I was getting better when I was met with this before the animal circus began, and before I had my coffee. It made me laugh out loud. I blew up the photo so that you could read The Wee One’s note.

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When I opened the lid, I was met with this.

An event which would put me over the top with anger, but it started my day off with a good ol’ belly laugh.

Now….I’m ready for some NFL indulgence.

Wishes for a happy day to y’all. (I may be a Yankee, but there’s something about the dialect that appeals to me)

…and I’m going to make sure that son of mine cleans that waffle maker, while I smile.

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Things You Didn’t Know You Needed Thursdays

It is Thursday, right?

5d6c1af0dff6607588947ddecebd8b2dAnyway, for some reason this made me laugh. Not that I enjoy humiliating squirrels it simply cracked me up more than some of the other Thursday delights.

You can purchase one here.


Happy Thursday

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The garage door to mindfulness

You know…there is something to mindfulness.

I spent many, many years convincing myself that I was stupid, awkward, ugly….I could go on, but that isn’t my point. My point is that the more I thought about myself in this manner, the more I became that person.

Therefore, why wouldn’t it work in the opposite direction?

Enduring an episode of depression, thinking positive is a futile exercise for me. The reason being, the only thing I think about is how to escape the despair my mind state is in. My therapist swears she can help me with this, and I’m impatiently waiting.

Currently, I’m keeping myself so busy that I don’t have time to fill my thoughts with anything, and I’m not necessarily mindful. I’m not paying any attention to what I’m thinking, I’m just doing as much as I can, in order to avoid thinking.

This is what happens when we aren’t mindful. (I’m twisting the meaning of mindfulness on purpose)

I managed to push in the door of our garage. I was on my way to an appointment and had to move my son’s new truck out of the way. Another car was parked behind his. I went back and forth–turning the wheel, back and forth–turning the wheel some more, back….and for some reason, the garage door was getting closer on my following forth.

I kept pushing on the brake, but it didn’t seem to work. I was in slow motion, while pushing so hard on the brake, and not being able to figure out how to stop the truck. Apparently, I had half my foot on the brake and the other half on the accelerator. Something had to give, and it was the garage door. The cars had minor scratches, but I can’t say the door survived.

No, I managed to rip out the hinges that hold the panels together and bend the track the door rolls on. If we had left it alone, it wouldn’t have been so bad for all the neighbors to see, but my son and I thought we could lift the door and get it on its track, which managed to turn the complete bottom panel inside out. As it was explained to me by the garage repair man–that was a huge no-no. We could have been seriously hurt. So much for my DIY skills.

So for the next two weeks when I come and go to here or there, or go out into garage, I’m reminded to be a tad more mindful. I can’t continue to run from my thoughts without paying attention.

I’m getting rather weary of putting on my rubber gloves and digging through the trash to find my reusable K-cup. Or, I search for it, and find that I placed it in another odd place. I’m tired of losing my glasses, only to discover they are on the top of my head. I’m having trouble concentrating on a simple knitting pattern, falling over while squatting to take a photo–then I can’t get back up. Oh, I have a much longer list of snafus.

Eventually, I will have to face that Little Ms. Negative Pants that lives within the depths of my brain, and boot her once and for all. Ignoring negative thoughts is not the same as replacing them with positive ones. I can no longer afford to ignore.

That will take some thinking.

Some serious mindful thinking. Replacing the negative thoughts, with positive thoughts, and be present in the moment.

Due to the garage door, and my many snafus, I’m reminded daily.

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World Mental Health Day and Motherhood

Today is World Mental Health Day. There are many articles online, or on your television, which are intended to raise our awareness of mental illness.

I raised three kids while suffering from depression and anxiety. I accomplished it! They were great students, and are well adjusted. Our oldest struggles with depression and we are helping as much as he allows. He is also an extremely smart introvert who has struggled to relate with his peers his entire life. I found it hard as a person with a mental illness help another through mental illness—and that has created enormous Mom Guilt. On the upside, he knows he can turn to me because he knows exactly how difficult it is to maneuver through life with a stigmatized, misunderstood illness.

You know what isn’t fair, even if a person has health insurance which adequately covers mental health issues, how do they get time off work for therapy. The decision to tell your employer that you need such and such time off for therapy, can be daunting due to the stigma. When I was working, I didn’t receive help for just that reason.

A little motherhood background for some of you:

Our oldest son is 25. He finally graduated from college a year ago, and has lived with us since. It took us 7 months of encouragement for him to find a job. He has a good job in his field of study, and I think he can afford to live on his own. Of course, he has to give up some of his hoity toity food/beverage preferences.

Our second is our daughter. She left home (not as a run away) at 17. She graduated early from high school and returned to our home state to start her college studies. She graduated in record time – magna cum laude – and at the age of 23, is now in Montana earning a second degree through an accelerated registered nursing program. She has only returned home for vacations.

Our youngest is 20. Academia has never interested him much. He made it through high school, but is kind of floundering with college. He sees it as a waste of time since he doesn’t know what field of study interests him. He has a part-time job, and may have to go to full-time until he figures out what he wants to be when he grows up. We helped the other two through college, we will help him when he decides. We just don’t want to throw out our money if he isn’t going to his classes—which apparently, he isn’t. He lived on his own for his first year of college, but has returned home.

If I could, I would keep all my children at home—as their little human selves. You know, small, cute, and inquisitive. Frozen in time, no growth into manipulative, rebellious teens.

If you’re lucky, like we are, they will return home. Unfortunately, they will have transformed into large versions of their cute little selves, with bad habits.

Maybe I’m not mean enough. My husband and I have this good cop/bad cop thing going on. Yes, I’m the good cop. You know what? Good cops get taken advantage of.

Obviously, the days of spelling things we don’t want our kids to understand what we’re saying, has long past. It doesn’t matter—apparently, they aren’t listening anyway.

They don’t understand blatant passive-aggressive hints, such as, What is the exact day you are moving out? Can I help you find an apartment? I’ve looked online and found some apartments you can check out–they even allow pets. We have the truck and trailer ready as soon as you find your new home.

No, as teens they were excellent students learning how to tune us out. Guilt isn’t even working, and I’m a master at that skill. Tears aren’t appropriate, but even leaking one out while giving them the speech that mooching off of us won’t help them move on with their lives, isn’t working.

I hear that the boomerang effect is very common these days. It’s nice to know that I’m part of the norm.

Our daughter gets it….what is it with the boys?

Anyway, there are many forms of mental illness. Postpartum depression was the worst form for me. After we decided we weren’t going to have anymore kids, I went on anti-depressants. It wasn’t ideal, and my mood was mostly flat, but along with my husband, we raised three well adjusted kids. Well – two, and I can only do so much for our oldest, which is the source of some of my current anxiety/depression. I can’t kiss his boo-boos away. However, as my therapist points out, he is succeeding in life in spite of my perceived weakness of parenting skills.

So…to any mother reading this, feeling as if they are ruining their kids, they need your love most. Get help, and love them to pieces.


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Things You Didn’t Know You Needed Thursdays

Yes, in spite of the pity party I’m having, I found something funny.

d4b383a760d09ad8b7ac97b41fbed8b5Actually, this eyelid trainer could be of great help to me as I’ve not slept well, and due to my mental well being, I feel haggard….and I look that way as well.

I was thinking of using some of my handy dandy duct tape to hold my eyebrows up—or a very tight, high ponytail, but if I could train my eyelids…..

You can purchase these here.

Happy Thursday!

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