American Conservative Ideology an Archaic Concept

This may come as a complete shock to those of you who regularly read this blog but I am about as conservative a Midwesterner as you will ever encounter. Yes, I was being facetious and now you know why I never intentionally write humor. The conservative part however is true. I really do not like to blog about politics but it is impossible to ignore the subject. We shouldn’t want to ignore it but I confess I am sick to death of two year political races that have the outcome determined by the press months before I ever have the opportunity to cast a vote and have my say. I realize I am pouring water on cold ashes but even in my current state of mind where very little has the ability to stir an emotion in me this topic comes through clearly.

When my choices on the Republican ticket were narrowed down to one candidate in January, I was beside myself with fury. Even now, I cannot believe that we let the press dictate to us who the candidate would be long before the Primary season got into full swing. But they did, we did and there went the Republican ticket. So I turned to the Democratic ticket in my fury and I thought well, I am going to give Obama a fair chance to convince me that he can do the job. His age is not an issue or his lack of experience if he selects good advisers and is willing to keep on a few key people for the short term. I was open minded and ready to listen. As for Hillary, she was in consideration, her best asset in my eyes is that I know precisely what to expect from her. There will be no surprises and there will be no skeletons jumping from her closets. Then up popped Rev. Write and all of the rest and other than the very inspired speech Obama gave In Philadelphia (which might have been his get out of jail free card if nothing else had happened) and suddenly Obama was removed from my list of feasible candidates. There I was teetering between having to accept McCain and jumping onto his wagon or accepting Hillary and jumping onto her wagon and what happens then? Why the press started driving the point home that there was no way that Hillary could get the nomination it was in fact not only an improbability it was an impossibility.

John McCain is a man of honor, he is a hero and we as Americans are indebted to him and every other man and woman who has ever sacrificed for this country. It is my sincere hope that Obama remember that during this campaign and that he afford McCain the respect that is his due. Speaking of the men and women who put their lives on the line for the rest of us, I believe it would behoove Obama to pay them a visit since it is his intent and that of the press that he be their next Commander in Chief.

Moderation in everything they say; moderate ideology is required politically in this country at this point in time. Conservatives such as me are apparently in the minority and I say our only real hope of survival is moderation. We have to slide just a little closer to the center of the isle. I will never know if I would have actually voted for Hillary when I got into the voting booth but I do know that I am miles from voting for Obama. My vote is too precious a freedom to throw away and I refuse to stay at home in November just because the press has already determined whom our next president will be. You never really know, strange things do happen.

There is always hope.

Yes Betty, There is Hope

Today I changed to a new internist; actually, I have seen him before, he used to be in with the doctors at the group I just left. The entire mess is too much to deal with, the headaches and high blood pressure and asthma and on and on and I take more prescribed drugs in one day than any self respecting junkie would take in a year. Golly, I wonder why I could be depressed. I am glad I changed doctors; this one recognized the symptoms of depression as soon as I mentioned six weeks ago or so I had hit rock bottom in the black abyss of despair. No dummy, this doctor, we shall see if his version of the happy pill works. I wouldn’t mind floating around like a happy little cloud, smiling and humming and bouncing all day. I vaguely remember doing that once without anything more than my love for God and all He created.

As for yesterday, I went to Cleveland Clinic and discovered that the MRA shows something (well I take that as a good sign, I was beginning to wonder if I had lost a few marbles) and of course since there is something they would like to do another High Contrast MRI of the base of the skull with contrast dye in order to get a better look and verify what the MRA saw. So… as the Hasher’s say, on on. The translation of all that is; between waiting for approval from the insurance company for the additional MRI, actually scheduling the test, and then scheduling the Dr.’s appointment, it will be two months until I go back to Cleveland Clinic. In the meantime, all I can do is spend another summer always running away from and never toward the light. You would not believe how good I have become at doing my hair and makeup in the dark. The doctor did confirm my theory; trigeminal neuralgia can indeed trigger a migraine, or the stress caused from pain can. Hello brain, get a clue! Pain + pain does not= relief.

Yikes! I truly am sorry you suffered through reading all of that. Sometimes a person has to vent it off somewhere and since I am too big a coward to try and find solace in any drug not prescribed for me or in alcohol or any other vice that normal people turn to, this is it. When I was a working woman my favorite thing to say when I was at work was, “As soon as I get out of here I am going straight to the bar and downing three margaritas and then I’m going to start drinking”. Everyone I ever worked with probably thought I was an alcoholic but the truth is I have never went to a bar alone in my entire life and any time I ever went with people from work I didn’t drink alcohol because I am such a light weight with the stuff I would not have been able to drive home after even one drink. At any rate, it was saying I was going to down three margaritas that I enjoyed; it made me smile just to say it.

One additional note on depression; did you know that there is a 12-Step Depressed Anonymous Group out there? I stumbled onto the link while doing a little research for something I am considering writing for submission to a regional newspaper. They are international with groups in Israel, Poland, and the United Kingdom and they are of course, here in the US, though they are not established in every state, Ohio, for instance does not have a chapter. I have to admit it the concept fascinates me. Having never had the misfortune (praise God) to be addicted to anything other than cigarettes, I am not really familiar with the 12-Step approach to things but it makes sense to me that depression could be viewed from the addictive point of view because once a person reaches the black bottom of the abyss it takes near super human will power to begin the long journey back to the light. It is much easier to give in to the persuasive, almost seductive pull of the mind numbing, emotionless despair of eternal blackness. In any case, if you are interested, check it out.

Enough of all that for this day, again, I apologize for being less than I am capable of being please understand that I am trying. Perhaps it’s because I am light headed from breathing the rarefied air up here where I am hanging out these days, on God’s shoulders. One promise I have made to myself. I will not change the way I close each post because I know one day I will believe it again.

There is always hope.

TGLBH continues

I apologize for posting this abbreviated installment of The Great Lady Bug Hunt. It is not as long as I had hoped to post and I am not making excuses, the fact is that I have had two migraines since last I posted here and they have a tendency to stifle the creative process. It is my hope that writing the story will serve as a form of happy therapy and help to get me over the last of the depression, time will tell.

I am certain the entire story will see many revisions before I am satisfied with it, though it had been my hope not to post anything until I was sure it would hold water. This installment has I think, a few leaks but it is all that I produced last week and I feel obligated to post something. Perhaps next week will be better. Without further ado…

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Before Boomer had a chance to say anything, his Uncle Bill’s head popped through the car door and he reached down, pulling Oscar off his chest. “Sorry about that,” he said to Boomer.

“It’s okay,” Boomer, grinned. He shot out of the car like a rocket (that is how he got his name you know, he runs so fast he’s like a sonic boom) grabbing his cousins sticky fingers as he went and they tore around the side of the garage. This was what he had waited almost a whole year for, Aunt Hattie’s garden! That is to say, a bird house that hangs in Aunt Hattie’s garden. He could hear his great Aunt Hattie and Aunt Amy at the front of the house exclaiming, “Scott! Jessie! You’re finally here, just when we were beginning to worry.” The further back into the garden they went the louder the chatter from the birds became and the softer the voices of the adults until at last it was only Boomer, Oscar and the friends they had made last year.

The most wonderful thing about Aunt Hattie’s garden is that it is unlike any other garden anywhere else in the world. It is a wild and untamed place with large grassy areas that are mowed and large islands of wild grasses and trees and bushes left there for the birds and animals for food and shelter. There are only a few small flower gardens and even they have been encouraged to go wild to a small degree. One flower garden came to be because a tree fell down and Aunt Hattie could not move the bigger pieces of wood so she made what she calls a stump garden. Now there are plants that happily grow and cling to the fallen wood. Near the back of the proper yard, just outside of the woods in one of the wild areas, there are three large spruce trees and Boomer and Oscar made a beeline for them.

They were both laughing as they ran around to the back side of the trees. They ran up to the one in the middle and disappeared. At least that is what you would have thought if you had been peering out of the woods watching them. They had discovered the secret of the trees last year when they were helping one of their friends, the Great Lady. and you will soon meet her. For now, Boomer and Oscar were glad to be back and they needed to be sure everything was as it should be before they went to visit any of their friends. The first of which would of course be the Great Lady.

Once inside, under the heavy branches of the spruce trees it took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the shadowy light. It was cool and the air was moist, it smelled like Christmas trees and the ground was spongy soft with deep layers of pine needles. They threw themselves down onto the carpet of pine needles drawing in deep breaths of pine scented air and… was that… oh no a skunk! They sat up and crab walked to the tree trunk warily eyeing a skunk that sat just inches from where they were laying. They looked at each other and Oscar, gulped, and said in a dry, cracked voice, “Is that you Brutus?”

The skunk blinked a couple of times, twitched its tail, made a noise that sounded something like clearing its throat, blinked again and started laughing. He laughed so hard that his bushy tail shot straight up in the air, and he had a small accident that changed the look of surprise on the cousins’ faces to one of alarm and they quickly covered their noses. The skunk fell onto the bed of pine needles and rolled over onto his back, kicking his legs and laughing harder still. When at last he could speak, he said in a stuffy nose sounding voice, “Oh… I wish you could see your faces! Of course, it’s me, what other skunk would volunteer to wait for you in the daylight?”

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And there it is, warts and all. Thanks for taking the time to stop by. I have another visit to The Cleveland Clinic on Wednesday; perhaps my doctor there can get my brain back in working order. I have every faith that she will.

There is always hope.

The Great Lady Bug Hunt Begins

As I told you, I am writing a children's story. There have been several surprises for me since I first began this adventure. First, it is more difficult than I had anticipated, writing a story that conveys a message without sounding like a textbook. Second, my protagonists are little older than I thought they were, I had imagined them to be in the three to five year age group and they are instead seven and eight. Perhaps they are small for their ages. LOL Another problem I encountered is that the parent's seem determined to become involved in the Lady Bug hunt. That sent me back to Go and I had to begin all over again. Woe, the life of the amateur writer, I love it.

Without further ado, here follows my few short lines of the beginning of The Great Lady Bug Hunt. By and by, I do know ladybug is one word but for the purpose of the story, it is two.

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The Great Lady Bug Hunt

Boomer had waited a very long time to return to his Aunt Hattie's house in Ohio, in fact, he waited nearly an entire year and that was quite long enough thank you. He wiggled around in the back seat of the car and asked, "Are we there yet?" for the ten gazillionth time. His parents both smiled and nodded their heads as his mother slowed the car and turned the wheel, Boomer felt a gentle thump and then the car wheels were crunching gravel as they pulled onto a long gravel driveway.

"Bill and Amy are already here. Oscar beat you to the top bunk buddy, I don't want you two fighting over it. Got it?" Boomer's father said as he opened the car door.

"Okay, but I get to…" We will never know what it was that Boomer wanted because at precisely that moment a head topped with brown curls followed by a stout little body clad in a blue tee-shirt and shorts pummeled him, nailing Boomer flat on the floor of the car. Sticky hands pressed his head back and Boomer was glaring into the broadly grinning, chocolate covered face of his cousin.

"Hi yah, Boomer! Gotcha didn't I?" laughed Oscar.

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And there you have it; you may have guessed that it appears to be working itself up to being a much longer story than I had originally planned. As for the message, I do hope I can figure that out! At this point, my goal is to have enough new work to make a respectable post of it next Saturday.

There is always hope.

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Chipmunks and Summer and Hope

My mind is unquiet tonight and I cannot sleep. Laughter works like sugar and caffeine with me. It is a potent stimulant and when taken in too large a dose in the evening it can prohibit sleep. We watched Alvin and the Chipmunks on DVD this evening and needless to say, I laughed a lot. It really is a cute movie and the extras on the DVD have the story of the creation of The Chipmunks in 1958. Wow, I didn't know that they are older than I am!

Something fun we did a few weeks ago was bottling our own port wine. J.B. (Don's sister) has been doing this for about a year now, I think and she had a kit brewed up for us the same time she had one done for herself and we all bottled together. Their Dad was there too and I think he enjoyed the experience. We dubbed our brew Shady Vale Orange Chocolate Port (the Shady Vale coming from the name of our home which I named in honor of Terry Brooks' Shannara series) and put it in cobalt blue bottles.

Another summer is on us and in typical Ohio fashion; we went from freezing to 90 overnight. Not literally but near enough to it, I assure you it felt as if we did. We had catbirds and robins nesting in the bush outside the kitchen window, both successfully hatched their babies, stuck around long enough to be sure, they would survive and then as some hippie parents do, they headed off to a commune. The babies are still hanging out waiting for mom to return, poor little mites; I think they have cleaned their rooms and everything trying to impress her. My hummingbird friends have returned as well but there are far fewer than there were a few years ago and that makes me sad because I know that hummingbirds return to the same feeders throughout their entire lifetimes and they do not vary their pattern. I can only believe that a few of them have died and that is so very sad.

We planted a wildflower garden a few weeks ago and it is coming up nicely. The baby bunnies are thrilled with the treat of the tender young greens. We get so much pleasure in watching the bunnies, groundhogs, deer, squirrels and chipmunks along with the birds. Our back yard has become a haven for so many animals and if I am not mistaken, we have a raccoon living in the front yard. Of course, nothing in life is absolutely perfect there must always be a little something to remind us how thankful we should be for the good. In our case, it is our neighbors' dogs incessant barking. Inevitability when we go outside to sit on the porch or in the yard the dogs are barking and a person can only listen to that for so long before the nerve ends begin to fray. If that is the worst thing, we ever have to endure then we should be on our knees thanking the Lord nightly, I say.

All that remains to fill in the remaining gap since I last posted regularly is to say that track season has come to an end and I am glad of it. It seemed an awfully long season this year, though it actually ended a week earlier than Don had anticipated. Perhaps it was because I wasn't feeling well, at any rate that one is now as Don says, in the books.

Now my friends, since I am at last truly beginning to feel more myself again I can at last say what I could not for a while. When my despair and depression were at the worst I could not see hope no matter how hard I tried. Those four small words were beyond my comprehension; those were indeed black hours.

There is always hope.

 

We Saw The Strangers

Today we went to the movie theater and saw… (Wait a minute I suppose my designating it as a"movie" theater dates me, what do they say these days?) Sorry about that, as I was saying we went to see The Strangers today. I have to tell you, if you are into edge of the seat, holding your breath and screaming like the girl that I am movies, this one is for you. Yes, I did scream, right out loud. Liv Tyler stars as Kristen McKay and she nailed her role, playing opposite Scott Speedman as James Hoyt. The two go to his parent's vacation home after attending a wedding, they have had some sort of disagreement (evidently James proposed and Kristen said no) which ruins the romantic plans James had for that night. Without giving away anything crucial, I will tell you that the gist of the story is that they are terrorized by people wearing masks and the people attacking them enjoy watching the fear they generate in their victims before they go in for the kill. Bryan Bertino wrote and directed this thriller and I think he deserves an award or two for the effort. I cannot remember the last time I screamed in a theater. We knew they should be afraid long before the victims did and it worked beautifully in building suspense and anticipation. I rate it four out of five stars.

I am in the process of writing a children's story. With my mind being so muddled lately, it is a bit difficult to keep on subject at times but it is coming along. I believe I'll go ahead and post what I have completed at the end of the week. It is nothing of consequence, only something I thought of while mowing the grass one day. I will tell you that I so loved the title of one of posts here that it actually gave me the idea for the story, that and a birdhouse. The post was titled The Great Lady Bug Hunt; you are familiar with the way I twitter off and take a different path than the one I had originally intended, so imagine what I will do with that title and a birdhouse.

There is always hope.

 

 

 

Despair and Depression

It is my sincere hope that I never again visit the dark and treacherous places my soul has wandered in these last few weeks. I have struggled mightily adapting to new medications while enduring the agony of migraines and trigeminal neuralgia pain. The three combined were responsible for sending me on a trip into the deepest, darkest depths of depression and despair that I have ever known. Depression is a terrible thing; depression alone is devastating. Had it not been for some compassionate people I found on line who were willing to befriend me, I am not sure I would be here to write this post today. In fact, I am fairly certain that I would not. And that is the topic of today's post, coping with depression.

As I am in no way qualified to offer professional advice or help to someone who might be experiencing a personal crisis, I would not consider posting such a grave topic without providing links to some of the places I found helpful during my time of despair. First and foremost if you are or know of a suicidal teenager call the Covenant House NineLine @ 1-800-999-9999, they WANT to help you. Suicidal adults should call 1-800-273-8255 (TALK). The following links are available to all of us: Walkers in Darkness - Support and information for mood disorders (depression, bipolar disorder & related mental illness) , WebMD Crisis Resources Links , Depression Booklets Online From Healthtouch ,NIMH · Depression · Complete Publication , No Stigma - It's Not Your Fault and Depression Is A Treatable Illness, and The Samaritans. There are many more options out there; the most important thing to do if you or someone you know is suffering from depression is to get help. Talk to someone, you deserve to feel better and with the proper help you will. If you know someone who is depressed, encourage him or her to get help. You will not regret taking the time to help a friend; every life is precious.

The older I get the more I see that age really has very little to do with it, it being nearly everything actually. Depression doesn't care if you are six or sixty; it is an illness that does not discriminate. We think nothing of running to the doctor if we can't shake a cold but for some reason we are reluctant to see our doctor and tell them that we are depressed and ask for medication or counseling or whatever would be best in our case. It makes absolutely no sense to me in this day and age when our children see commercials for Viagra and feminine what not's that we should be embarrassed to talk about depression. It is an illness and it is treatable. Those same children who are being bombarded with those commercials suffer from depression just as deeply (perhaps more deeply) than their adult counterparts. Oftentimes they do not have (or are not aware of) the same resources available to them and fear ridicule not only from their contemporaries but from adults as well. Places like Covenant House always take teens seriously.

From my personal point of view I have to confess I ran to the phone the day I knew I was in trouble and pleaded with my doctor to phone in a prescription (we knew depression was a possible side effect risk of the new medication) and then I went straight to the internet looking for help. I really needed a life line to hold on to and a compassionate ear to listen. All I can say is that it hit me like a ton of bricks out of the blue and that if it had not been for some compassionate people I am fairly certain that at the very least I would have done myself serious injury. Yes, it was that bad. Quite frankly, I am still quivering at the thought of what a near thing it was. That behavior is so far out of the realm of my usual behavior that looking back I can barely recognize myself. The cause is clear enough, always being in pain and the new medication but my goodness, to what devastating effect. Admittedly, I waited longer than I should have to ask my doctor for anti-depressants. There were warning signs that I ignored, I was downright sad and weepy, I had lost interest in virtually everything around me and I was so tired most of the time it was an effort to brush my teeth. So why did I put off getting the help I obviously needed? I suppose for the same reason most people do, intellectually I know that depression is a treatable illness but I was embarrassed to admit that it was effecting me.

Another point to make for those of you who may be unfamiliar with the murky depths of the depressed mind speaking strictly from personal experience and research, a person who is haunted with depression may not be functioning at a normal level of awareness. It may sound obvious to some you but it came as a bit of a surprise to me when on reflection I realized I had on several occasions wandered aimlessly through the house trying to recall what I was looking for only to discover it must have been a glass of water or some such.

Depression is a terrible thing and medication takes time to build up to effective levels in the bloodstream, but with a little support and care, you will begin to feel better. I am beginning to, finally.

There is always hope.