Simply Peace

There is something about the first quiet night snowfall of the season that fires me up to take what is becoming an annual solo tradition.  While it is still snowing, I have an incredible urge to walk the neighborhood to absorb the feeling that only a person living in this area can appreciate.

The night sky is uncommonly bright despite an absent moon.  A comforting blanket covering an entire city.  A quiet stillness.  Simply peace.

Though not a nighttime snowfall,
these photos capture the snow covered stillness nicely.

Dreaming my Dreams with You.

I dream frequently, and I almost always remember them.  Not for a while have I had a recurring dream, but lately, I have had the recurring theme of basements finding their way into my slumber.

Because it is so present in my dreams lately, I have been doing some searching into what the basement symbolizes.  Come to find out, it symbolizes your inner core, your foundation, your subconscious.  Its often associated with negative thoughts or feelings about yourself, bottled up feelings , resentment, or sensitivity.  Though those descriptions do fit from time to time, I am not convinced that the basement represents that for me.  

All of the dreams in my "research" features the dark and dingy basement, but my dream basements are often pleasing with flowers and bright lighting.  They are always very large with maze like turns and corners.  They seem to go on for an eternity.  A surprise is always waiting, and usually the surprise is a pleasant one.  The surprise it holds could be a room that I rediscovered as being my favorite to having an endless supply of toothpaste (hey, I have no control over it; it is a dream, after all).  

 Last night I had yet another basement dream, though the basement this time was an unpleasant one, complete with mice and leaking water.  What does it all mean?  Last night's dream could be explained by some of those negative emotions mentioned above, but what about my other dreams?

 Am I that complex at my core?  I'm a pretty simple girl and have always had a good sense of who I am and what I believe.  I am a little preoccupied with finding the hidden meaning of these ever present basements.  I'm convinced, though, that whatever it is, is positive.  Not only positive, but also profound.  I just have to figure it out. 

If you have a suggestion, leave me a comment :)

The Thanksgiving Miracle That Time Almost Forgot.

About a week ago, I lost my watch.  Its just a cheapie Timex watch so not a big loss, but because I live my life almost to the exact minute, it felt as though I lost a one of a kind Rolex.  I figured one of the cats must have stolen my watch so I looked in all the usual cat hiding places:  Under the Fridge, Behind the Couch, and Under my Dresser.  All came up empty.  Well, empty of the watch.  However, I did find a pair of scissors, a bracelet and several dust bunnies.

All of my spare watches had dead batteries so I had to suffer for an entire week without a watch. I felt naked.  I even survived work without having a miniature clock on my wrist to dictate my every move.  Honestly, I did not think I would make it though the weekend, but I managed.  Though not without looking at my bare naked wrist about four dozen times each day.

Because I often go hiking or skiing after work, I carry along a prepacked bag of winter gear to save on time and maximize the use of the limited after work daylight.  A bag I refer to as my "diaper bag".  When I come in the house, I will find a convenient spot on the floor for my diaper bag, and a few days ago I placed it on my kitchen floor where it sat idle for a few days before I moved it to my bedroom floor....where it sat idle for a few more days.

Today I awoke to freshly fallen snow that begged to be shoveled.  As I dug into the diaper bag full of winter gear, I found my watch!  The cats batted it off the kitchen counter into the bag. 

I was so delighted.  I lovingly held my watch as I participated in the happiest of happy dances, kissed its glorious face, and welcomed it home where it belonged.  Right on my pasty white pale winter wrist.

Its a True Thanksgiving Miracle.

Gifts that Keep on Giving

The holiday season is upon us.  More than that, my Birthday season is upon us as well.  In two short months, I get bombarded with unwanted gifts that have no meaning, do not fit in the decor of my house, or do not appeal to me.

To make that point, let me disclose to you what I encountered in a prematurely opened Birthday gift lovingly given to me by a coworker:  A set of Thanksgiving kitchen towels likely bought from last year's clearance bin.  A dollar store frame outlined with the words "meow".  And a cat pin that says, "cats are angels without wings."  OK, not a horrible gift to open had I not opened that exact gift one year prior.  I have received the exact same contents from the exact same person last year for my Birthday. 

Hidden in the depths of my closet sits a bin full of such gifts.  A piece of masking tape written with the name of the gift giver sticks to the bottom of each untreasured trinket.  The tape reminds me who gave me the present so that I don't end up regifting that gift back to the original purchaser. 

There have been Christmases where I have accomplished my entire shopping from that bin in my closet.  Since I have made a "no present" pact with most of my friends, my bin is growing sparse.  At least sparse of meaningful regiftable gifts; I'm not quite sure who would appreciate a cat frame.  More than one resides in that special bin.

The act of regifting is a skilled talent not for the disorganized.  I got in trouble twice by my lack of organizational ability when I gave a friend a regifted candle with the name of the giver still attached to the bottom.  Oops.  Another faux pas was made when I regifted a "New Home" Hallmark Ornament to a friend with the previous year's date on it.  Sure, it makes for a fun memory, but really, it just made me amp up my organizational regifting skillz.  Yo.

There are rules for regifting.  The number one rule is that you must never regift to the person who gave you the gift in the first place.  Unless its your Grandma who has dementia.  Then it might be acceptable.

You must also never regift to people in the same circle of friends.  Say Friend A gave you a present that you in turn gave to Friend B.  Friend A and Friend B are also friends.  When Friend A visits Friend B and sees the regifted present, you are busted. 

Do regift within the same year so you don't have my expired gift faux pax experience. 

Most importantly, give the gift to someone who would appreciate it.

My problem this year is that I have an over abundance of cat frames, Thanksgiving kitchen towels, and cat pins.  Nobody else would appreciate them.  Guess I am stuck with them.

Don't get me wrong, I don't mind receiving gifts; however, I don't enjoy getting gifts simply for the sake of getting gifts.  If they have meaning, great!  But a person can only have so many cat frames laying around.

The gift of time is much more cherished and valuable.

Ugh-A-Mugh-A

About twice or thrice a year, I need an emotional cleansing.  I probably need it more than that, but that is about how frequently they arrive. 

Tonight is the tip of an emotional breakdown.  It hasn't reached its full potential, and I'm hoping to catch it and release it before it reaches the uncontrollable stage.  Sometimes the emotional release is helpful, cleansing, and a good release; however, it isn't very productive so I thought I'd try blogging.  Not sure how productive this is either, but at least it keeps my hands busy and my mind thinking about something other than what is.

The catalyst happens to be, and always is, work related.  Frustrated, burnt out, frayed, and did I mention frustrated?  Its a rough bunch of kiddos right now.  Kiddos who are pushing all my buttons and testing all my limits.  Coworkers who have checked out leaving me to do the brunt of it all.  Suggestions being unheard.  Overworked bosses not able to listen.  Solutions going by the wayside.

The kicker is that I don't even have to be working right now.  These are my fucking days off.  I happen to have picked up (in advance) extra shifts for my coworker who is in paradise.  While she basks in the warmth and sun of Puerto Rico, I burn in the heat and flames of Hell.  Tomorrow I get Hell times two.  A pre-scheduled double.  Lucky me.  Not sure if I can emotionally do it, but like the little engine that could, I tell myself, "I think I can; I think I can; I think I can".  And I will.

Underneath the tears that flow tonight is more than just work.  Its the emotion I feel for Missy.  Poor Missy.  Earlier this month, she tore her ACL ligament in her knee resulting in a 3 legged dog.  She is unable to go for walks and looks at me pleadingly when I take Tiki for her walks.  She doesn't understand, but somehow I think she does.  She gets it.  She's in pain and needs to rest her injured leg.  Hopefully it will stabilize itself within 6 weeks leaving her to suffer with an arthritic knee for the remainder of her life. The other option is surgery.  Expensive surgery:  $2500.  For now, its just wait and see....and pray.  My heart is heavy.

Couple that with finding an ambulance and firetruck at my Aunt's house this afternoon.  She is fine and will be fine.  Just some extreme abdominal pain that she described worse than childbirth.  Thankfully it was without incident.  This time.  But the time is coming.

Hence an emotional night.

On a positive note, I got an electric mattress pad.  It makes crawling into bed quite inviting and enjoyable.  Can't wait to snuggle in tonight with thoughts of a peaceful 16 hour day tomorrow, a healed puppy, and a healthy family.

Snap, Crackle, Pop

Yesterday I went to get "de-clicked".  My hip has been clicking something awful.  No pain, just a continuous "click, click, click" when I walk.  Its so annoying and also a reminder that I am aging.  Along with a clicky hip, I also have a clicky jaw.  TMJ.  Its been getting worse to the point that it clicks when I yawn, eat, and even talk.  Also super annoying.

I figured a chiropractor could help me de click both my hip and my jaw.  Initially I was very skeptical of the credentials of a chiropractor, but after he cured my aching back 2 years ago, I have complete faith.  If you have never been to one before, the positions and popping noises may look and sound like cruel and unusual punishment.

My chiro stands well over 6 feet tall and has the strongest hands I have ever felt.  Allowing such a giant to wrap his strong hands around my neck and basically snap it, creating that dreadful popping noise, is an act of great trust.  Especially since upon entering the office, you have to sign a waiver stating he is not responsible for accidentally snapping your entire head off your shoulders. 

Thankfully that didn't happen. 

In due time, I hope to be able to once again enjoy a full yawn, once again walk with silent steps, once again experience an entire day without a headache. 

My giant cured me once; I know he'll cure me again.