Conscious, Unconscious, Subconscious and Self-conscious

This might be one of those posts you run back to at 2am and delete.
I could have sworn that when Gracie and I walk, it is at least a half an hour. Time seems to stand still as she drags me down the street, the remembrance of Puppy Training remaining in my mind only. My knees certainly think that it's longer, and my lower back screams at me. It's only about 20 minutes. I have to step that up.
I haven't been to Curves for week and am feeling every missed session.
Right before the Fainting and Falling episodes, I was feeling pretty darned good. I even called Connie and said..."Hey, I am feeling pretty darned good!" The pain that I had for years when I breathe was pretty much gone...the ribs felt better, the neck looser, the knees were better, the headache gone.
Thanksgiving was really pleasant and I had the energy to do everything. Not even a nap. Friday after that, I decided to start some, as I lovingly call it, "Crap-Hunting." Did you know there is a lot of stuff in your house that you don't need? I was blissfully cleaning and went through drawers and shelves and tossed stuff. Couple of bags full and some charity items. I planned on resuming on Saturday. Friday night was a fun night out with the guys for dinner...at my suggestion, no less. Usually, after 7pm is a push for me. Party girl.
Then Saturday happened, and my neck and head haven't been the same. When I hit the first time I smacked my head against the dog's kennel, smooshed the head against it, and then the floor. Luckily, there was a rug there. The next 3 times were lucky, too....concrete hit from just a couple of feet, and wastebaskets hit. I came to in a plastic trash can thinking, "Gee, this is a really small room."
No one in the ER nor my personal dr. are worried about these episodes, nor my poor widdle head. I just don't think I've been the same since, though.
Maybe it's the "blankness" of passing out that freaks me. I've never in my life fainted before. Ever. Was this like death? Why is there such a loss of everything? At least when you sleep you have....thoughts.
Maybe it's because my husband just stood there each time with no concern that I kept passing out. That kinda hurts.
Maybe it's because I'm in pain now, all over again. I thought I had some victory over that; it was short and passing.
I was talking to someone and they said something about asking for angels for someone...and they were actually seen. I thought, as she said that, gee...where were MY angels?
What a selfish thought. I could hear in my head, "We were right there with you."
I only managed to paint a couple of days this week; I did some computer work at home, though, and the usual errand running and grocery stuff....but mostly I felt lazy and useless. I often wonder if I am just lazy and useless and my dis-ease is a mere manifestion of my lazy-and-uselessness. If I get well, I might have to DO something. Does anyone else with chronic dis-ease think like this?
So, I decide to wipe the slate clean for this last week and be more forgiving to myself. Tomorrow I will start over. I will live in the present and not worry about what happened, or what might happen.
You do it, too, okay?

Drum rolllllll...........

My dear friend, Pat, with whom I've worked in ministry, has her own blog! She's just starting out, but make no mistake...she's no stranger to the computer...she's a webmaster and very techy, besides being a godly woman who ROCKS!

Please give her a welcome!
Pat's Place of Grace

moar funny pictures

Needed laffs today! (There are even FEET for Missy! ;-) He looks kinda like Pikachu!)
Click the pic; then scroll down a bit for the animated version!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Update 11/26:
I got the same thing as older son...pretty sure he didn't give it to me because I took great biohazard precautions so that no one who came over (they had the choice NOT to come) would get it. I got it from being handed an adorable, germ-ridden grandbaby, bwess his widdle heart--and then told that they had just been sick--found out they went on to infect their entire family gathering--several generations no less.
No one that came over to our place has come down with anything, however, I did at 3 a.m. on Saturday morning; passed out 4 times; one from full standing position, luckily my face broke the fall. ER visit, fluids administered, yada yada. I love the holidays.
Update:
I believe we had a penguin, rather than a turkey, because the little twerpie thing wouldn't thaw...after 3.5 days in the fridge. He was only 13 pounds. Had to thaw him the cold water method early this morning.
Oldest son woke me at 3 in the a.m. with...um....puking is the only way to say it. He sat out the feast, but we have reserves for him. DIL came over with grandson and told me they had all been ill. Great.
Got to talk to Robert for a long time to catch up. That was great. He is very happy with his job, not being away from family, but time is going fast for him because he is so busy.
Gracie and I both limping this afternoon and evening, so we buckled up and bundled up and went for a walk to try to walk it off. It's wintery here!
It's not even 8pm, and I'm exhausted, had 7 here today. Not a lot. Just about right.
Hope yours was great (I know, I know, you don't ALL celebrate T-Day. Blessings!



If I don't get here tomorrow, I didn't want to miss saying Happy Thanksgiving to all of you. I am SO thankful for BlogWorld! What would my life be like without each and every one of you?? You all bring so much to the world, and you make me think, laugh, cry, and hope.

I am blessed indeed. I thank my God for all of you. Have a blessed, safe, and wonderful Thanksgiving.

(I mentioned over at Barbara's that I'm not fond of holidays in general...but I heard this song in passing and it cheered me up considerably. No, Cat Stevens did not write it.):

Morning Has Broken
Lyrics by Eleanor Farjeon

Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for the springing fresh from the world

Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dewfall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass

Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day

Out of the mouths of babes....

I subbed for an English teacher Thursday and Friday last week. Don't you think it's funny that we're the only country in the world that makes us take classes in our own language? And, we are requiring that Hispanics coming into our country take Spanish? And, that our command of our own language is so poor?? And, no, this post will not be grammatically perfect.


But, I digress.


These were middle-schoolers in my charge. By Friday, I had fallen in love with all of them, even the ones named by the teacher that were supposed to cause me many problems. They were so funny. Some scenarios:


One lad looks at me funny. He says, "You look like Jamie Leigh Curtis." I reply, "Well, I suppose I've been told that." Under my breath I mutter, "Yeah, maybe if she gained 100 pounds." Another lad shouts, "JAMIE LEIGH CURTIS GAINED 100 POUNDS?!?"


It's reading and book review time. One young fellow is looking at the book shelf. For a really, REALLY, long time. I finally go over and ask him, "What are you looking for? May I help?" He says, "I can't find the book I was reading to do my review." "What was the book?" I asked. "Call of the Wild," he responds. "Well, go sit down and try to do as much as you can, and I'll hunt around for it." He sits and I KNOW that book is there. I hated it back in the old days and I hate it now, and every Language Arts class has more than a fair supply of the heart-breaking novel. And, there it is. Sitting right there. I take it over to him. "That's not it," he says. "Yes, it is. It's Call of the Wild by Jack London." I reply. "No, it's not. That book has 345 pages. Mine had 295," he says authoritatively, "so this can't be the book." ?!? Oy.



The teacher, ever so kind, left a boat-load of work for the kids to do in the last 2 days before Thanksgiving break, and you know they were just itching to do it all. She left a worksheet for the Gifted and Talented class. It was about complex and compound sentences. She left instructions for them to do some extra sentence analyzing besides just identifying which sentences are complex and which are compound. The kids look at the worksheet, and by the looks on their faces I contemplate calling 911 for mass resuscitation. "We DON'T know what this means!" The wails begin. And, as they were proper little G&T's, I knew they could see their entire future collapse before their very eyes. They would be destitute forever, living in a cardboard box, eating cold and stale McDonald's french fries from the McDumpster. Whoa was them. Panic ensued. I rang the little apple bell on the teacher's desk to quiet them down. They looked at me, silent and shocked. "Your teacher doesn't ring this little bell to get your attention?" I ask.
"No, she just screams."

SOOOO I explain, 3 or 4 times, the difference between a compound and a complex sentence. They work on the worksheets, muttering and whining, and beg to take them home overnight to study more. They bring them back the next day and the next assignment is horrific. Write 10 COMPLEX sentences about Will or Jim in Something Wicked This Way Comes. The blood drains from their faces. We go over it ONE MORE TIME. They start writing. They've got it! They are EVEN splitting the independent clause and putting the dependent clause in the middle! One kid, at a table of three students, raises his hand. I go over and he wants me to read his sentence. It's a correlative sentence. I start to tell him that it's a great sentence but "actually it is a correla..." and before I can finish, they all have their fingers in their ears saying "la la la la la la." LOL. Never mind. I show him how to change it up to keep it complex.

I had the best time with those kids.