I had a big ego-trip.

A little over a year ago, I gave a talk at our church. It turned out that I really enjoyed doing
that and began to think (ego-trip!) that maybe that was my calling for the rest of my life.
The only idea was somewhat presumptuous, since I can barely walk--even with a cane--but
egos get a little confused at times.
I began to plan for my next talk. I decided to talk about the Prodigal Son parable in the
Bible (Luke 15:11-32). I even ordered a print of the famous painting of the Prodigal Son to
use in my talking points. I don't care if it is a famous painting, I thought it was ugly! The more I delved into this story, though, the more interesting it became.
Most Bible experts put the emphasis on--not the prodigal son--but on his brother and they
even stated the father in the parable was compared to the Heavenly Father.
As I was preparing for another talk, though, I felt like something was missing, so I decided
to go to my Heavenly Father for guidance. People have always told me God answers our requests
three ways. Number 1: by saying "yes"; Number 2: by saying "no" and Number 3, by saying "later". Well, my answer was none of the above but--"Don't even think about it. What makes
you think you are qualified to talk about the Prodigal Son?"
Wow! Thanks for not beating around the bush, Lord!
In preparation for my talk, I had even found a cute story to "butter up" my audience.
Since I have orders from headquarters to not give another talk, this story is too good not
to share. I have a feeling this will be something women will enjoy more than men.
"A woman accompanied her husband to the doctor's office. After his check-up,
the doctor called the wife into his office alone.
He said, 'Your husband is suffering from a very serious disease, combined with
horrible stress. If you don't do the following, your husband can die. Each
morning, fix him a healthy breakfast. Be pleasant and make sure he is in a
good mood. For lunch, fix him a nutritious meal. For dinner, prepare an
especially nice meal for him. don't burden him with chores. Don't discuss your stress or
anything negative. This will probably make him feel worse.
If you can do this for at least ten months to a year, I think your husband will
regain his health completely.'
On the way home, the husband asked his wife, 'What did the doctor say to you?'
She replied, 'You're going to die.'"

Kinder, gentler me.

You may notice, this blog shows my kinder and gentler side, as opposed to the Nothing Wrong
Here blog. I just wanted you to know that side of me still exists in spite of getting involved
in the dirty world of politics!

Since Christmas has passed, the American people are jumping into the frenzied art of
After-Christmas shopping. I don't mean the shopping to catch all of the 99% Off After-
Christmas Sales, but returning the unwanted Christmas presents. I have never understood
this obsession.
Years ago, one day shortly before Christmas, Jim asked me if I liked the color green.
I told him, "No"--rather emphatically, never even questioning why he wanted to know.
On Christmas morning I unwrapped a green coat with a fur collar.
By the time I unwrapped the coat, Jim was more than a little unhappy with me. First
of all, he claimed when he tried to determine the size to buy, when he looked in my closet
he found three different sizes of clothes. Well, if you ask me, there is nothing unusual
about that--but he thought it weird. I explained there were clothes too small, clothes too
large and clothes just right, for that particular time in history. He did pick the right size,
though, and I wore that green coat for many years. I would never have dreamed of returning
it. That experience was so traumatic for Jim, though, he never again bought me anything to wear.
I finally asked someone near and dear to me, why people get so excited about returning
Christmas gifts, and she said most of the enthusastic people are consummate shoppers,
and they like the thrill of the hunt (for bargains) and secondly they are buying without spending their own money, O.K.???
We nearly had a come-apart in our family years ago over unwanted Christmas presents.
Our family survived, as families are prone to do, but I never felt the same about Christmas
after that. It was at that time that we started giving money for Christmas--and you know
something? I have never had those gifts returned yet!

Frank Sinatra Syndrome

I came down recently with the Frank Sinatra Syndrome. You say you've never heard of that?
Please don't tell me you've never heard of Mr. Frank. If so, you're too young to read this
blog. O.K., Mr. Blue Eyes had been retired from performing for several years when he decided
to do some concerts and even did a TV show.
I wasn't able to see him in concert, but caught him on TV. Well, let me tell you, it was awful!
He couldn't sing, he looked old and I said to Jim, "Why doesn't someone in his entourage, tell
him to go back into retirement, since he can no longer sing?"
How does this apply to me? Well, I had stopped playing the piano/organ at church for many weeks because my hands weren't working properly. Arthritis had gotten the upper hand (so
to speak), BUT I got the bright idea to play for the candlelight service at church and on the Sunday after Christmas. I had not touched either instrument in all that time, afraid I would
only make my hands worse--but when I went to practice with my buddy, Mary Jo, you would
think I had never EVEN seen an organ before. My hands wouldn't work properly--I had lost
use of a couple more fingers and it was just awful! After some practice, the playing only got a
little better, but I got through the candlelight service. On Sunday, however, it really fell apart.
As my fingers were fumbling around, trying to hit the right keys (and failing), I thought to
myself, "Donna, why didn't someone in your "entourage" tell you to go back into retirement,
since you can no longer play." Even my friend who backs me in all of my endeavors told me
the organ didn't sound very good over WMOI on Sunday morning.
Lesson learned! Retirement never SOUNDED so good--believe me!

Life HAPPENS--when we are asleep

Welcome to my new blog--Life Happens when we are asleep. I don't know what direction
this blog will take. I'll just let it lead me. It will be more like the columns I used to write for
The Hometown Journal and maybe throw in a few recipes from the Aunt Jean's kitchen columns,
too. Come on board and we'll see where this blog takes us.

TOO EARLY OR TOO LATE?

It was the Monday morning after the end of Daylight Savings Time. I had an early appointment with the lab people because I had a doctor's appointment at noon and the
doctor wanted time to see the test results before he saw me.
I pretty well had my own routine on these blood work sessions. I always like to be
there when the lab opens at 7 AM. I have to fast for those tests, so as soon as I'm done,
we can go eat breakfast. Now, it wouldn't hurt for me to miss a meal or two or three,
but I haven't missed too many meals in my life, and see no reason to start now.
Things were really quiet there at Clay County Hospital that morning, so Jim and I kind of walked the halls, waiting for the registration ladies to open up their cubicles. I was getting a
little concerned because by this time, it was after 7 o'clock. It just seemed that there should
be more people stirring around.
Finally, a lady came cruising down the hall and asked if she could help us. When we told her
I was to have lab work done, she suggested we register at the ER, which we did. We noticed
a light was on in the lab, down the hall, so went down there and told a rather surprised
lab tech what we needed. She casually mentioned that perhaps we had forgotten to change our clocks at home on Saturday night, but I assured her that we had gone to church on Sunday
and had arrived on time.
After the lab work was done, as we walked down the hall to leave, we noticed a clock
in the cafeteria and it said IN BIG GLOWING NUMBERS--6 AM!!!! We finally figured out
we must have changed every clock in our house--except the one in the bedroom. On Sunday
we must have woke up on our own and simply didn't pay any attention to what the clock said in the bedroom.
It was such a strange feeling, wandering around in the pre-dawn hours at CCH, and it made us realize it was one of the loneliest places on the planet. Then, we thought
about the people who had spent the night there with loved ones who were very sick, or dying.
It must have been lonely for them, too.
Even with our too early expedition, though, we still weren't early enough to eat with the pre-dawn breakfast people at Grandma's Kitchen--but it was VERY early for two old-timers like us!