Relaxing vacation photos . . . just sharing

There are not many things that can beat the relaxation of a vacation: 

The Cliffs of Moher - Ireland

Blubell Cottage Air BnB - Ireland

Galway - Ireland

Leed's Castle - England

Cliffs of Dover - England

Bath - England

Pompeii - Italy

Paris - France

 

Hope you enjoyed the pictures - no narrative, just visual stimulation!

The anticipation & angst of retirement

 Retirement . . . what a beautiful word! Or is it? It seems like many of us look forward to retirement and then when it is just around the corner, we start to wonder what our lives are going to be like when we don't have to report to work and punch a clock on a regular basis.

I am going through this phase of transition right now. A few months ago, I trained in the person who replaced me. Now, I need to start figuring out what to do with myself every day. Don't get me wrong, I have plenty of things to keep busy, however, I am used to a daily workweek routine. After I retire, I am not going to have my schedule laid out for me and I will need to structure my days so one doesn't bleed into the next.  and then before I know it I have not left the house or accomplished any of the tasks I was hoping to. Some people wake up in the morning, and they can have their whole day planned out in their head within the first 5 minutes . . . this is not me. I go to my calendar for a peek at what my day will be like. I need to begin to build my list that will define what goes into my retirement calendar.

So, what is my calendar going to look like? What tasks do I need to accomplish every day. Do I even need to accomplish something every day? Are there hobbies I am going to restart and if so, should I put them into the calendar, so I do them? Are they even a hobby if I have to schedule them or are they now a new "job". What if I wake up and don't want to follow my agenda for the day? Do I just delete tasks from my calendar without rescheduling them? If I do that, will the tasks ever get done? So many questions!

I don't really want to have such a rigid calendar that I don't enjoy life day to day. I know that I want to travel and there are many family and friends who have extended invitations of hospitality if I want to go visit. I also know that I want to seriously focus on my personal health. I want to start an exercise routine, but I just need to figure out what that is going to be. I know from prior experience that I don't do well keeping up with exercise routines. I know it will need to be simple and short in duration or I won't do it. Cooking is another task/hobby (I love to cook) that has fallen by the wayside. There are too many calories lurking in the cabinets in my house and they need to be evicted. Chaos and clutter have also taken up residence without a lease and neither one of them contribute to a smooth-running household - they too must be evicted. 

My sewing machine, over-lock machine, knitting needles and crochet hooks all need to come out of the dark closet, get brushed off and polished up again. These were the very items that used to help me keep sane when my children were younger . . . it is time they rise up and take a stand with me. I might even start doing projects on my Cricut. Who knows?

Retirement: The stage of life where one becomes independent again. Only this time I am not leaving home to start a new life . . . I am coming home to start a new life. Wish me luck!

Change Is Good

 A lot has happened since the last time I blogged. I changed jobs and my new career path took me to long-term care (LTC) where I was given the opportunity to experience a whole other side of nursing. Acute care nursing had its challenges, and I enjoyed every one of them. However, life changes occur as we get older and in lieu of that, so did my career path.  In December of 2020 I accepted a position in a nursing home - it had been 12 years since my last stint in LTC. I was very excited but also very nervous. What if I didn't like the work? What if my new co-workers didn't like me? I also worried about having to learn all the different tasks that went with the new job. What I hadn't thought about was all the physical differences between my old job and the new one. I basically went from a desk position to a floor position and was no longer getting only 800 steps a shift - I was now averaging around 5,000 steps each shift. The other problem . . . elderly people are always cold - the thermostats were set to a balmy 74 degrees. Holy crap! I am going to talk about some of those changes as I slowly sweat to death. 

Connections: I forgot how much I enjoyed interacting with the elderly. When I was growing up, my 70–80-year-old neighbor lady was one of my best pals. I would run across the yard and go visit Dena whenever I had the chance. Sometimes my sister would come with me.  Dena lived in a big old house and sat in her rocking chair much of the day, looking out the window while she was crocheting. Her sister, Laura, also lived with her. Laura was blind but boy could she play the piano and sing. I learned how to play Rook, was introduced to the joys of piano playing, and was fascinated by the endless miles of thread being crocheted into beautiful works of art. Dena liked to crochet large tablecloths with intricate patterns and doilies so dainty they looked like lace and spider webs. Their house had ten-foot ceilings, hard wood floors, crown molding finishes, stained glass windows, and built-in cabinets that stretched from floor to ceiling. There were beveled glass china cabinets, with pillars reaching up to the ceiling, that were filled with knickknacks and other wonderful treasures to look at. Both ladies were still active in their advanced ages - Dena was a retired nurse and she drove a big old red vintage car - us kids used to call it a land yacht. She would get in her car, rev the engine, and if it was possible to squeal the tires on gravel, she could have done it. She drove like a bat out of hell. She once rode with my mom in our family car and at one point the window started to make a whistling noise. Dena asked my mom how fast she was going, and mom replied that she was driving 55 miles per hour. Dena commented, "Oh, my car doesn't whistle like this until I get it up to 80". That comment pretty much sums up Dena's zest for life.

I was flooded with memories of Dena and Laura as I continued to learn the different aspects of my new job. Over time I developed a great rapport with the staff and came to love and be loved by the residents. When residents passed on to be with God, I mourned but wasn't stricken by grief because I know that before they died, I made a difference in their life no matter how short their time with us was. I developed real friendships with many of the residents while learning their life stories. I love to travel and many of the residents worried about me when I was on my trips while at the same time looked forward to getting e-mails and updates on my adventures. 

Fast forward 20 months . . . life changed again, and I have made another career change. This time I am taking on the role of care coordinator at a sister LTC facility. I has been 14 years since I last worked at this site and I am both nervous and excited to take the next step forward in my career. I won't have as much physical hands-on interaction with the residents, but I will have a very important role in making sure they get the best care possible. I just completed my first week of orientation in my new job as Care Coordinator, and I LOVE IT! The skills and experience I have gained over the years have been extremely helpful and I am still able to create that long term connection with the resident that was missing when I worked Acute Care. I believe in the holistic approach and working with residents and their families to develop the best plan of care for everyone is a huge part of my new job. I have been able to reconnect with prior co-workers and the job itself has consistent hours that do not require weekend or holiday shifts to be worked.  The physical demands are less, and I can appreciate that as I am getting older and find that I have to slow down some . . . just a little :)

I anticipate that this job will be my final career change until I retire, and I am okay with that. The road always twists and turns but eventually we end up where we are meant to be. This journey started the day we moved into the big green house, and I looked across the yard to see a big boned, white haired lady walking toward my family to welcome us to the neighborhood.

Life is good, change is good ~ Daemon

Vaccinated . . . it's the only way to travel (seriously)

 I really debated whether or not to get a Covid vaccine. In the end, the deciding factor was this, "A vaccinated me could travel to other countries easier".  I'm not even going to try lie and say I did it because it was the right thing to do since I work in healthcare.  Those who know me best would have seen right through me anyway.

 I am not opposed to vaccines, and I am not really worried that they aren't safe. However, I have reacted to vaccines in the past, and I have a history of not retaining immunity. My dilemma was this: What if I got the first dose and I reacted and couldn't get a second dose. Would it have been for nothing?  I decided to wait and get the Johnson & Johnson vaccine - the "one and done" seemed like the best choice.  I mean, if I reacted then it was already a done deal and I wouldn't have to worry about a second dose, right?  I had a date lined up to get the vaccine - my son got one several days before I did and he got sick. He had already had Covid once over a year ago.  Hmmm? Was J&J the right one to get? Then, a couple days before my vaccination appointment, the health department put a temporaty hold on the J&J due to reports that people were developing blood clots.  Of course, I happened to be in this risk group.  Nope, J&J was off the table for me - now what?

 I spoke with some of my healthcare co-workers and did a little more research and decided to get the Moderna vaccine.  Other than my arm being really sore for a few days (it's a tough shot), I was fine. I had a mild headache but otherwise everything went really well.  Last week I received my second vaccine. Still had the same arm pain but otherwise, it wasn't too bad until approximately six hours later.  I started to get a headache and felt tired. My arm was getting more sore and I was feeling slightly nauseated.  I went and laid down. Within 24 hours I had a fever, chills, migraine headache, nausea, a sore throat, dizziness, blurred vision, and my muscles and joints felt like I had been dropped off a cliff. My hands were swollen so I couldn't get my ring off, but my mouth was dry like cotton. I couldn't see the veins in my hands so I knew I was dehydrated (that's my tell).

 I laid back down and went to sleep again. The next time I woke up I had to make it downstairs - I needed something in case I vomited. I could hardly move; my joints and muscles hurt so bad and I had to hold onto the wall so I didn't fall over from having vertigo (spins). I knew I needed to hydrate so I grabbed a large glass of water, a bucket, and made my way back upstairs. I slept again. I think it was Friday afternoon when I got up to get more water. My whole body was hot and flushed. My husband was getting ready to go to the cabin and he asked me if he should stay home with me. Nope . . . I wanted to feel sorry for myself, by myself. Off he went for the weekend.  I was hoping I would feel better by the next day. It is now Sunday, three days later, and I still don't feel so great but only the rash, mild headache, and dizzyness are left.  I am hopeful they will all be gone by tomorrow.  

 Tomorrow, I have to go to work.  It is holiday pay tomorrow and the miser in me likes getting paid extra to do my normal job.  Don't we all? Just in case though, I lined up someone to work for me on the off chance I wake up feeling like crap. Was the vaccine worth it?  Of course . . . how else will I travel without having to quarantine?  The fact that I am protected from Covid is just an added bonus!

Random thought: My parents took me and my siblings over to friends, neighbors, or family members who were infected with measles, mumps, & chicken pox so we could "get it and be done with it".  However, that probaby wasn't the best strategy and definitely not one recommended in today's world. Vaccinate, vaccinate, vaccinate . . . and if you don't, that's okay. Risk is a personal choice. 

This is randomly me ~ Daemon

Link to my travel blog

https://travelingwithfamilyandfriends.blogspot.com/2021/03/the-colosseum-rome-italy.html

Do You Like Your Job?

 Another day has slipped away and I really didn't accomplish much other than eating and catching up on some much needed sleep.  I don't know if we can really "catch up" on sleep or not.  Are we catching up or are we banking for a later day?  I guess it doens't really matter as long as a person can rest enough to feel like facing the next day.

Time seems to fly by way to fast unless I am at work.  I swear the clocks move two hours ahead and one hour back during my shift.  Unless there is a major deadline - then the clock goes into double time.  I was working on a project the other evening (I work straight evening shifts) and I didn't realize it was close to quitting time until the night shift crew walked by my office and greeted me.  "WHAT???" 

Work has been a complicated and tricky place to be recently.  The patient load is high and the staff availability is low.  This computes to not enough nurses to work needed hours and extremely overworked nurses being asked to pick up even more shifts than they already do.  I am not one of those nurses.  I pick up extra shifts here and there, but due to a heart condition I cannot work the hours that I used to.  I also struggle with the fact that my current profession is not the intended path I embarked on when I went back to college.  It's almost comical to see the expression on people's faces when they ask "why did you want to be a nurse?" and I reply "I never intended to be a nurse - I went back to school to become a paramedic". (cricket - cricket - cricket)  Sure, I make the best of my job and I do enjoy certain aspects of it, but trust me, the first solid opportunity that comes along to do something else will end up with the door hitting my ass on the way out.

 I recently cut back on my hours - not because of my heart, but because I am fortunate enough that I do not need to work full time to make ends meet.  Working many hours during our earlier years allowed my spouse and I to reduce our debt and put ourselves in a position of being debt free.  Of course, that could very well be what caused my heart condition.  The multiple jobs sometimes had me working up to 170 hours every two weeks.  In addition to that I had two children to help raise.  Looking back, I don't know how I did it.

My oldest son recently quit a job that he had been at for almost four years.  He enjoyed the job, but he could no longer work the 12 hour shifts 5-7 days a week like he had been doing for all those years.  He was a young healthy man but the physical and mental stress of the job has taken its toll on him.  He got injured on the job a year ago and has since become deconditioned, overweight, and his patience level is almost non-existent.  As much as my spouse and I wanted him to have a great paying job with benefits, we could not stand to see what was happening to him - his life was passing him by and his health was declining.  We encouraged him to find a different job and to quit where he was.  He did this and the new job did not work out for him.  He is currently looking for work - but that is okay, we are in a position to help him until he finds one that is a good fit for him.  I am a firm believer that if you don't like your job or your working conditions then you need to leave.  No job is worth losing who you are as a person.

Random thought:  What if we could agree to train in profession that has a shortage and our government would provide us up to four years of free schooling along with living expenses to help to help attain our goals?  Of course we would have to maintain a standard that meets requirements, but just think of how this could help reduce professional shortages in many fields.

This is randomly me ~ Daemon

Surviving Covid

I never thought I would be as affected by the isolation that goes hand in hand with Covid-19.  I don't mind being alone and I often enjoy my solitude.  However, being on the cusp of introvert-extrovert, there are times when I need to be in large crowds to get energized.  With the pandemic looming large, that option is not available to me without creating a situation where I risk exposure to someone carrying the virus.  For those of us who enjoy and have a compulsion to travel, I can honestly say that social distancing sucks!

I recently took a trip - yes, I know I should have stayed home and not risked myself or anyone else - to Boston with some of the women in my family.  Many online news sites, social media platforms, and travel sites had information stating Salem was closing everything down and were recommending that travelers cancel their trips.  I am very happy we did not heed this poor advice.  We got tested for Covid before we left on the trip, got our results the second day of the trip, and had an absolute blast the rest of the trip!  We took a day trip up to Salem and I have to say that I was really impressed with the precautions and enforcement the Salem community had in place.  There were plenty of places to visit in Boston too.  Although many of the businesses were closed, many were not.  People practiced social distancing, wore masks, followed the rules set by the communities, and because of this we were able to enjoy our trip.

Nobody in our group got sick, nobody acquired Covid from travel, and nobody complained that the trip was wasted.  We were able to contribute to the Salem and Boston economy (even though our contributions were a drop in the bucket compared to normal tourism) without creating additional risk.  I don't think travel is a bad idea if people are smart about their social practices and pay close attention to hygiene.  Even working as a nurse, I am wearing my mask, using hand sanitizer followed by washing with soap and water (yes, I do both - in that order).  I don't touch my face, I don't pull my mask under my nose or chin - I remove my mask to eat and I don't let it dangle off of one ear like some.

I have taken a "hands off" stance when it comes to my own well being.  My coworkers do not touch me and they respect my "bubble".  This is nothing new for me and maybe that is another reason why I haven't contracted Covid.  My two sons have had it, I have been exposed multiple times, and I have had direct patient contact with Covid positive patients.  I have had five tests since last spring due to exposure or symptoms - all were negative.  Maybe the antihistamine effect of my allergy pills made me less susceptible or maybe the Vitamin D supplements really did help.  Or maybe I am just lucky. I prefer to think that I am just cautious and that my efforts are what have kept me Covid free and hopefully will continue to do so.

This is Randomly Me - Daemon

Another Day of Being Crazy

  I know I have posted before about feeling like I am losing my mind but now it is official.  I got a phone call today from someone saying the insurance information I had on file with their company was not working.  I did change in insurance companies this year but I completed online updates and made phone calls to my providers to make sure they had the new information.  After all, I sure don't want to have to pay more than I am supposed to for my medical expenses.  Anyway, back to the phone call.  I didn't recognize the number that came up on my caller ID but I answered it anyway.  The woman on the other end has a slight drawl and started talking about my bill and how it wasn't going through insurance and she needed my insurance information - then proceeded to name my old insurance company.  Ding, ding, ding, there went the warning bells - Scammer Alert!!

  I told her I would call her right back and she asked if I wanted her number.  I told her I already had it and hung up.  She did mention two of the companies I deal with so I called the first one to see if they were making calls about insurance.  Nobody was in the office, which is typically closed on Fridays, so I left a message telling them that there was possibly someone using their name in a scam.  Then I tried to look up the number for the other company but it wasn't in my contacts list.  That is strange because they have been one of my providers for five years or more.  I decided to dial the "scam" number to talk with this woman again and try get more information.  I called the number and a muffled voice said, " [company name that I couldn't understand] this is Dave".  Silence on my part . . . then I said, "Sorry, I think I have the wrong number".  Interesting that a man answered this time - wait - did he say his name was Dave?  I think that is the dudes name that owns the company.  Yikes!

  I hopped onto Google and put the phone number in.  The name of the company came up and boy, did I feel stupid. I dialed the number again and a different woman answered, "[company name] this is Nancy". I recognized the company once the name was said clearly and I recognized Nancy's voice.  "Hi, Nancy.  This is [me] and I just got a call from your number and some woman said my insurance account wasn't working anymore.  I told her I would call her back because I didn't recognize her or the number and I thought it was a scam {embarrassed giggle}".

  To make a silly story shorter - I got connected to the woman and got everything figured out.  Then I proceeded to go into my contact list and add the provider's phone number to the company name so the next time they called I wouldn't let paranoia set in.  Oh! I also called the other provider and left a message on their machine letting them know the scam wasn't really a scam, that it was just me losing my marbles.  [I am an idiot some days!]

  Ten years ago this probably would not have happened but the age of technology and the waning morals of our society have created people like me.  Technology lovers who have multiple layers of hacking protection put in place because we know the immoral people are out to get us.  When someone calls us, rather than communicating electronically per our preference, we immediately start coming up with scenarios in our minds about all of the scams that could be introduced via the telephone.  In my own defense, several years ago I was a victim of a online banking hacking scam.  The alerts I had in place allowed me to be immediately notified and I was able to shut the hacker down.  However, it still created a sense of violation in my mind made me secure my accounts even more with multiple access layers.

  I think the cyber world is only going to get worse and we all need to learn to use security layering to protect our identities from those individuals that think it is okay to steal anything and everything a person has.  So, do yourself a favor and check your accounts, delete accounts and profiles you no longer use.  Unsubscribe to those e-mails from companies you no longer deal with and stop giving out personal details on social media sites.  Be smart and stay safe onliners!!

Random thought:  When was the last time you received a letter on stationary from a friend or loved one?  Better yet, when was the last time you wrote and sent a letter to someone?

~Daemon

Blogging Anonymously Allows Personal Freedom

  I recently shared the fact that I am a Blogger.  I am not sure if that was the smartest thing I have ever done.  I started blogging years ago as a means to express myself and to provide an outlet for all forms of thoughts.  I didn't have my blog open to others at first - I was using the space more as a diary that had the added security of an electronic key rather than a physical one.  About a year ago I allowed a few trusted friends access to my blog - we shared common interests and I knew they wouldn't judge my random musings.  I made several of my blog pieces public and kept the rest private (a girl has to have some things that are private). 

  Anyway, back to the sharing comment . . . I was on FaceBook and someone posed a request for the readers to share something about themselves that others may not know.  I posted that I was a blogger.  Well, that piqued the interest of some of my friends and several asked for the link to my blog site.  Here is the dilemma - if I share the site address I will lose the anonymity I have enjoyed and others will be able to tie me to my pseudonym.  Is this something I am willing to do?

  I decided that I would take a chance and share the blog address.  I only ask that any of my friends who I have shared this site will honor my request to remain anonymous.  I am not so conceited that I think I will become the "talk of the town", however, I do not want to open myself up to scrutiny from those who do not understand and respect my need for personal privacy.  If any of my blogs speak to you or make you feel the need to share them, feel free to share my site address - just don't share ME.

Older parents and technology - Just shoot me now!

Does anyone else have that one parent that thinks he is ready for technology even though he can't even operate a remote control?  When computers were in the Windows 95 stage (probably one of the better eras) my mom decided to buy herself a desktop computer because all of her friends were sending "e-mails" and it was the thing to do.  Needless to say, she had no clue how to operate a computer and none of my siblings were tech saavy - so, guess who got to bond with mom over a Windows 95 desktop device?  Yep!  Lucky me!  Now don't get me wrong, I do not think there is anything bad about someone wanting to try something new and improve themselves.  However, I do think that a person needs to make the committment to at least learn how to use the technology they have so willingly enmeshed themselves into.  Over time my mom did learn how to use her computer to send e-mails and to print "stuff" (mostly jokes and pictures on plain paper).  In addition to those skills, she learned how to play games online.  She entered the world of POGO and opened herself up to a whole new world of fun . . . and viruses!

Is it selfish if you don't want to go visit your parents because you know that the so called visit is going to turn into a technical nightmare of redoing system settings, cleaning out caches, and killing viruses?  How about when the phone rings and it's your mother on the other end and she "just has a little question!"

     "Yes mom, this little picture (icon) needs to be left alone". 

     "No mom, don't try to "clean" your computer yourself".  

     "Sure mom, I can drive 45 miles one way to fix your computer".

     "Did you shut the computer off and turn it back on first . . . ".  

     "Oh, your friend Steve said to do a system restore because that's what he does when his computer freezes - Ummm, no! Do not press that button, I will be there in 45 minutes". 

I was in heaven when my parents decided to buy a second home in Texas and head South for their winters.  Six months of not having to trouble shoot computer problems (they didn't have smart phones yet either).  I was dreaming of what I would do with all of my extra time over the winter months . . . and then my mom calls and says, "I am taking my computer to Texas with me.  What do I need to do to get internet when I am there?"  [Crickets chirping . . . ]  And, that single sentence started a month long saga of me trying to "talk" my mom through a process that she was in no way, shape, or form, able to handle.  The saga ended with me getting on a plane and flying to Texas to get my parents set up with "dial-up" internet.  Well, that wasn't the only reason but it happened to be a catalyst. Yes, this was a long time ago and wireless technology wasn't readily available - this fact alone should indicate how many years I have been dealing with this demon called technology.

Roll forward to 2019 - my dad is no longer with us, my mom is remarried to a great guy who is a little more tech saavy than she is - just enough that I can actually explain steps to him over the phone and he is able to follow them.  My mom has had a cell phone for years - I put her under my phone plan and I pay for her monthly bill and we call it her Christmas, Mother's Day, and birthday presents all rolled into one.  Solves my problem of trying to figure out what to get her and it keeps her from having to dish out money each month for a phone.  Enter the SMART PHONE - since hubby #2 has a smart phone and he can do all kinds of cool things with it, mom decided she might need a smart phone.  Oh God!  I didn't realize I had PTSD (Prior Technology Stress Disorder) until I heard the words "how much would it cost for me to switch to one of those smart phones?"

Here's the problem - as a teenager I could look my mom in the eyes and lie my ass off to get myself out of any situation.  As and adult, I can't do it;  I wish I could, but I just can't.  So, I let mom know it wouldn't cost any more for her to switch to a smart phone and she would just have the cost of purchasing a new phone.  I ordered her phone (a very simple Motorola without major bells and whistles) and my older son set the phone up with everything she wanted.  She got a Facebook account, and e-mail account, and all of her contacts loaded into her phone.  Passwords were created and documented for her. Family members were notified that mom was entering the "smartphone" world. But the best thing by far was the "Duo" application that was loaded to her phone.  We could now make phone calls back and forth and use the same technology that George and Jane Jetson used when making their cartoon phone calls.  How cool was that? 

Today I almost cracked - my mom has not checked her voicemail messages for years.  Six months ago I spent time with a Verizon tech getting her password reset (this was pre-smartphone) because she couldn't remember what her PIN # was.  She also insisted that we never told her what her PIN was to begin with.  Okay, my fault, let's just move on.  Today, I spent time with a Verizon tech trying to get my mom's voicemail cleaned out.  The mailbox was full and nobody could leave messages for her.  She then tells me she has never checked her mailbox because nobody ever gave her the PIN #. [Plant my palm on my face].

Long story made short:  After an hour of frustration and explanations, I finally got my mom to understand that the "little blue circle with all the dots on it" could be pressed and an actual keypad would appear. Of course, in order to do this, I had to call "Hubby" and have him take a picture of her screen then send it to me so I actually saw what she was seeing.  Once we accomplished this, I was to talk her through accessing her voicemail. Loe and behold, she did have a PIN # ["Oh! Well how was I supposed to know what that number was for?"].

As I try to look on the bright side I remind myself that I will always be tech saavy . . . because my mother demands it . . . Just shoot me now!

Random thought:  In twenty years are my own children going to be blogging about my inadequacies and sharing their frustrations with anyone in cyberspace who wants to "listen?"

~Daemon

Today is the day to SNAP . . .

Well, the day has come when I can no longer pretend that I enjoy my life as it is.  It is time for some serious change.  I have become unhappy and as a result, apathetic.  I pretend that everything is wonderful and fine and I think that the reason I do this is because I believe that I can make my situation be whatever I want it to be through the power of positive thinking.

Positive thinking is a powerful tool - albeit a dilusional one.  So, what are the triggers that finally caused me to snap?  I would have to say the number one trigger is the fact that I have no place to go to get away - nothing to call my own.  Now, I understand that this is a selfish concept - wanting something that is just mine and nobody elses - but I believe it is the key to sanity.  The corona isolation has been a huge problem for me as I can no longer get into my car and drive somewhere to get lost in the crowds.  The crowds have been disbanded.  I cannot hop a plane to another country and lose myself in the thrill of exploring someplace new - the countries have been closed.

What I can do is find an escape that allows my mind to lose its reality and stop thinking about the world as I know it.  I guess the introvert in me requires this "task" as a way to reenergize myself.  The problem with this process is that it also requires isolation in a manner that blocks out all excess interuption and stimulation.  That is not possible in my current situation as I have animals that require attention, husband who shares my space, and a multitude of noise that intrudes upon my solace.  I completely understand the concept of needing to have personal and private space and have decided that this is going to become a reality on my life.  I am going to create a "She-shed" for myself.

I kind of sprung the idea of the "She-shed" on my husband today.  Well, I actually blind-sided him with it as I told him I was going to take over one of his storage sheds he has sitting in the yard.  This storage shed has been slated for renovation into a cabin.  For the last 5-6 years, nothing has been done to this shed to even hint at this becoming a reality.  The shed is rotting away - siding is falling off in places, critters have started to nest in the building, and the roof is looking pretty poor.  The shed was sheet-rocked about 20 years ago; wiring and windows were put in, and a wood sub-floor was installed.  And it has sat in this condition since then.  Of course it was moved to a different spot and blocked up, but nothing more has been done to the shed . . . nothing!  So, I have decided to squat on this piece of prime property.

I know my husband wasn't happy about my announcement. As I am typing this, he is working like a mad man on a room he is remodeling.  That is his response to me when he is pissed off or upset - he goes and does something manly.  Sometimes he cuts down trees with a chainsaw, sometimes he burns garbage, other times he gets on his tractor and does whatever it is guys do on their tractors.  The end result is he becomes productive, burns off steam, and I get to make a positive change about something that has been driving me slowly insane.

Is a "She-shed" going to make me happy?  Of course not; But it gives me focus in a time when I need it.  It gives me purpose and hope and it will give me a place of my own to escape to.  I can decorate it any way I want, I will be able to go to meditate in quiet and provide myself with spiritual regeneration.  If I want to work on a craft project and not pick it up right away - I can.  If I want to have my girlfriends over and not be bothered by ESPN blaring from the television, the rattle of the washing machine, or the demands of pets - I will have a place to go.  Right now, I am attempting to save my sanity by creating my own space . . . wish me luck!

Random thought:  What if we were able to tune out the world around us - kind of like putting ourselves into a sensory deprivation chamber - for 60 minutes every day?  Would we come out refreshed or would we come out insane?

~Daemon

The Utopia of Weight Loss

  Does anyone remember that movie "Logan's Run"?  It was based on a book that was published in 1967.  The setting brings us to a post-apocalyptic, future dystopian society where people lived in harmony. Population and resource consumption was controlled by requiring the death of anyone reaching the age of 30 (21 if you read the book). Citizens were required to report to a "sleep shop" where they were incinerated. Anyway, the one part of the movie that has stuck in my mind all these years was a scene where any citizen could enter a lab and request to be "laser sculpted". The female character was beautiful, already thin, and perfect looking.  However, just like current times, all she and society saw where those tiny little flaws that kept her from being "perfect".

 Laser trim a few pounds off here, there, and anywhere else the pesky fat cells were accumulating. I remember thinking "how cool would that be"?  A machine that could fix any physical flaw. Even as young as I was back then, I was already focusing on my so called flaws.  Fast forward forty years later and I realize not much has changed other than I have gotten older and . . . yep . . . more fat. Actually, according to clinical standards I am obese.  When did the term "obese" replace the term "fat"?  Why did it replace it? Whose ideas was it?  

I started an online application based weight loss program last Monday.  It is a points based system that includes "free foods" and incorporates activity into the overall plan.  I was on this same program years ago and had fairly good success so I decided to try it again.  I do recall that the last time I started the program I had 31 daily food points - this time I have 17.  The points and pathway are decided after the user takes a survey based on their preferences. Luckily, in my pathway, I have 300 free foods to choose from so it shouldn't be too much of a hardship, right? OMG!  The first day I had access to the program I ate like I normally would just to see what my typically day would look like for points. This first day was not my start day but since the application allowed me to start tracking a day early I figured I would see how I measured up.

As I stated earlier, I have 17 daily points allocated for food intake.  I also have a bonus bucket of 32 weekly points that I can draw from should I go over my daily limit.  Test day 1: I tracked my food at the end of the day - big mistake! I consumed all of my daily points, all of my weekly points plus more.  I had a total of 63 points for ONE DAY!  It's no wonder I am fat  - or obese if you have made the change to political correctness.  I was sharing this story with my co-workers while we were at the nurse's station and as I made the statement "no wonder I am fat", my own physician just happened to come walking around the corner.  He had heard part of the conversation so of course I had to retell it. I was embarrassed - I don't know why, it's not like he doesn't already know I am "obese".  Maybe it was because I had confessed, out loud, that my eating habits were the real reason for my weight problem . . . I have been trying to convince him it is a thyroid issue.  Anyway, he now officially knows that I am following his advice to lose weight.

For now, the laser sculpting machine will remain a dream and weight loss programs and changing my eating habits will be my reality.  At least I was able to live past the age of thirty . . .

Random thought: The word "utopia" is from the Greek language and combines two meanings: "a good place" and "no such place".  Isn't it ironic that the word that has come to be associated with perfection is really a good place that doesn't exist?

~Daemon

Did I Really Do That?

While I was at work last night my coworkers and I happened to get into a discussion about things we remembered from our childhood.  I shared my memories of having to practice bomb drills.  No, not the drill where you think there is a bomb in your school and everyone has to evacuate the building.  I am talking about the point in time where America was worried that the Russians were going to bomb us. My generation was just at the tail end of this particular reality - thankfully it never happened but if it did, I knew how to dive underneath my desk for safety.  Are you kidding?  My desk?  As I think back I wonder what material that desk was constructed from that it could withstand a bomb.  I wonder; do any of those desks still exist today?  If so, I would really like to purchase a few and gift them to my family and friends.  I would be the hero! 

 "America, we are under attack . . . get under your desk, now!".  My family and friends would probably be the only survivors because of my gift.  How about this scenario? "The Civil Defense has noted a tornado heading in your direction . . . "  No problem friends and family, just crawl under that desk and hang tight until the storm passes.  Your house may be gone but at least you still have your desk and your life.

Isn't it amazing how we can overcome our fears when we think we have something the will keep us safe during any event?  Many of us have those items that we have to keep on our person or really close by to ward off evil, danger, and the occasional zombie.  My safety items have changed over the years.  I used to have a Teddy Bear but one day I imagined him coming to life and killing me . . . I don't know what television show I must have seen that planted that in my mind, but Teddy was relegated to the attic.  I also had magic blankets that could be pulled over my head when I was in bed.  Those blankets kept the monsters away. As long as I was laying in the middle of the bed - suffocating myself - nothing could reach me.  Not even that big monster under the bed.  There were times when I actually thought I saw that monster but I am pretty sure it was my oxygen brain playing tricks on my mind.  I better not forget about the cats and dogs that kept me safe over the years.  As long as one of those animals was sleeping on my bed or walking with me in the dark, nothing could get me.  I was convinced my pets would turn into vicious killing machines to protect me.

My current safety item is my cell phone - I keep it close by and even take it into the bathroom with me sometimes.  Why on earth would I do this?  Because it saved my life once.  Well, I actually saved my own life by calling for help but my cell phone was the safety item I used. I don't have the Teddy Bear or the magic blankets anymore and my pets are not going to save me from anything. Now, I try to anticipate certain situations and role play in my head what my reactions would be. I think about problems that could arise and how I could fix them. I tend to do this with everything and I haven't decided if it is healthy or not.  Sometimes my brain won't shut down because there are so many scenarios running around up there. It is this ability or curse that allows me to have a quick comeback or reaction to most things that come my way.  It's like I myself have become my elementary school desk and I can protect myself - I just have to crawl inside my own head instead of under my desk to be safe.  Crazy? Maybe, but it works for me.

Random Thought:  What if all children were taught to critically think and solve their own problems?  What would our world look like in 20 years?

~Daemon

Dare to Dream and Just Push Through It.

I woke up this morning feeling like I had been run over by a truck.  Not that I know what that feels like, but if I had to imagine what it felt like I would have likened it to the massive aching body that greeted me when I opened my eyes.  Getting older can mean different things for different people - for me it means that every day my joints wear out just a little bit more.  Do I sound like I am whining?  Well, maybe I am.  After all, there are things I can do to reduce the stress to my joints. I could lose weight, I could work out, I could cut back on the number of hours I spend sedentary, or I could take a handfull of pills every day to cut the pain.  I do not do any of those things because like many other people, I have gotten myself stuck in a rut and I am not sure how to get out of it.

There are those people who have the willpower of the gods and they can do anything they put their mind to.  The push through every obstacle to achieve the task at hand and they set an example for everyone else in regard to just what one person can achieve.  I often wonder what drives the individuals - I have that same drive when I start to dream about accomplishing a task.  I can plan everything from start to finish in my head and I can actually see the end result.  However, I either never start the task or I start it and it sits unfinished until I abandon it completely and dispose of the product of my mind.  Why do I do this?  I can come up with many reasons that are all legitimate when I think about my own situation.  I guess that is part of the answer to my question - we each have different abilities and even though we may dream big there is always the risk of something stopping the dream.  It could me a mental deficiency that cripples a person or it could be a physical reason.  In my case it is both. 

I deal with depression, arthritis, and cardiac conditions that often stop me dead in my tracks.  However, I am learning that I can still accomplish tasks that seem insurmountable.  I just have to go back to taking baby steps . . . or in this case baby bites.  It may take me longer to accomplish something but I realized that I needed to continued to bring my dreams to fruition even if it takes me two or three time longer than someone else.  After all, what is the hurry?  The dream is alive as long as I make it so.  I have decided that I need to continued to dream and tell myself to "just push through it".  Wish me luck!

Random Thought:  What if we all decided to "just push through it" and accomplished all that we dreamt of.  Imagine the possibilities . . . No, do the impossible.

~Daemon

The Year of Problem Solving

This morning I had another one of my epiphanies.  This one was better than the one I had where I realized I didn't have to eat blueberries anymore because I was an adult and could make my own decisions - that's a whole other blog.  Anyway, I have been struggling with not getting out of the house enough and feeling sorry for myself because I don't have time to do any errands before work.  What I realized this morning is that I do have time to do errands before work and the reason I wasn't going out before work was because I didn't want to wear my scrubs on my errands.  Here is the easy fix - wear whatever I am wearing from when I got dressed for the day and just bring my scrubs to work with me and put them on there.  Why did it take me so many years - yes, years - to come up with this solution?  Probably because I was too focused on feeling trapped and sorry for myself.

So, today I dressed in my jeans, t-shirt, and put on my makeup.  I fixed my hair, grabbed some lunch, ran a couple errands and still had time to stop at the local coffee shop for some much needed caffeine and a little "blogging" time. My scrub outfit is hanging in the vehicle just waiting for me to put it on when I get to work.  Work - there is another issue that this will help with.  We used to be able to punch in when we got to work and the boss would just adjust our time to reflect our scheduled start time.  Now, we have a new time and attendance system and staff is not supposed to clock in early - we have to wait for the clock to be at least seven minutes before the start time before sliding that badge through the reader.  I usually get to work at least 15 minutes early and I always just punched in and started working on something.  After the new rule took effect, I would often get to work early and plan to go back to the time clock to punch in - that didn't always happen.  New plan: I am going to go to work like I always have but from now on I will have my scrubs with me a go to the locker room and change. By the time I am done doing that I should be able to punch into work as I am going by the time clock.  Problem solved!  An added benefit is that I can change back to my street clothes after work and reduce the "bugs" that I could potentially be bringing into my home.  Win-Win!

Life has so many road blocks for all of us and it is easy to let ourselves get pulled down to a point where we feel we have no control over our own outcomes. I'm not a big believer in New Year resolutions but considering we are just starting a new year, I think that I am going to try looking back to my past and pull out some of the tools I used to use to help others problem solve.  I have a plethora of skills and tools sitting inside my brain just waiting to be dusted off and put to good use.  I think 2020 is going to be the "year of the problem solver" and I am going to try find unique ways to get myself going in the right direction.

Random Thought:  What if everyone focused on solutions rather than problems for just one day . . . I can only imagine the productivity spike that could result.

~Daemon

Starting the journey . . .

I plan to take a trip this June and much of the time is going to be spent walking.  The winter has been hard on me and I have been hard on myself.  Living in the upper Northwest part of the United States isn't easy on those of us who need to have sunshine in our lives to keep our brains happy, productive, and positive.  Gloomy days abound: over-eating, sleeping longer hours, and human hibernation seems to go hand in hand with the lack of sunshine.  The lack of activity means I need to get myself conditioned to a point where I can walk longer distances without feeling like I need to have an oxygen mask applied.  If I don't, my trip isn't going to be as fun as I want it to be. I am extremely obese but I'm fortunate (or unfortunate depending on how one looks at it) that my weight gains are evenly distributed over all of my body.

This week I got serious about starting my health improvement journey. My first goal is to walk every day - I am ecstatic to state that I have walked at least 1 mile for three days in a row.  Now some people might not think this is a big deal . . . but, those of us who carry the sloth gene know just how much of an accomplishment it really is. I decided to use the Google Fit application as it is available on my telephone and my smart watch and call me silly but the little "atta girl" reminders from Google just make me happy.  I know it is only a machine, but it still makes me feel like someone is acknowledging my accomplishments. I am also inspired by a couple of my co-workers - they don't know they are my inspiration and that's okay - one day I will tell them. Until that time, I will just continue to watch their own progress and maybe toss in my own words of encouragement to them.

 I will eventually work on my obsession with sugars and carbs, but for now I need to tackle my physical self.  I am taking the approach of building my own pyramid and the base layer is going to be exercise because even if I eat healthier, it doesn't help improve my mobility the way I want it to.  Diet is going to be the second layer of my pyramid and I know from experience that I will more than likely have to build this layer several times before I get it right.  Maybe the fact that I love vegetables, fruits, nuts, and legumes will be my saving grace.  I may just end up having to become radical and ban certain food from being brought into the house.  Time will tell, but for now the focus is exercise and spring has come to Minnesota to help me get going.

Random thought:  I wonder if I would have developed these same bad habits if I lived in a warmer climate near an area that supplied fresh produce year round?  I am guessing I would have because even people in tropical paradises are obese.  I think the key is going to be creating my version of paradise in the plains of Northern Minnesota and it has to start with molding a better "Me".

Wish me luck :)

The Purpose

The Purpose

I can see all of the things that are wrong

and I almost choke on the unfairness of it all.

Why doesn't anyone else seem to see what I do?

Am I the only one able to make the call?

The child that is left alone to die in the trash

is innocent yet unprotected by humanity.

An unheard  voice that may forever be stifled

by someone's supposed temporary insanity.

The little ones climb out of the angry pits

only to be so scarred they cannot heal alone.

Who is going to help these desperate souls?

Are they to be left to fend off evil on their own?

An angel of mercy has opened his wings to

wrap them around an angry young man.

He starts to step into the circle of light

then suddenly turns to run again.

He does not understand the power

to be found in the center of the glow.

His Faith needs nurturing, mentoring, and 

understanding in order to grow.

Our purpose has now become crystal clear . . . 

We are to go forth and spread His love

so those who do not know Him can learn

that true inner peace can only come from above.

                                Daemon Ⓒ 1998

Despair . . . Hope . . . Faith

Despair . . . Hope . . . Faith

A glimmer of hope here and there,

a small whispered prayer,

promises made but not meant;

For years there's despair.

Too many times the pit is black

and the light doesn't glow,

but the pain keeps striking me

right here,  I'm alone!

Darkness slowly becomes my friend

while others just fade

until their faces are gone.

I still have not prayed.

Though many years have gone by,

there is anger there

in the place where joy should be.

No one is aware.

"You will be fine just wait and see."

They smiled and walked on

not thinking how their words hurt;

I look, they are gone.

You have come to replace them all.

My only friend true.

You did not leave, it was me,

I was too confused.

We have found each other again

and the pit gets bright.

Your words are my salvation

in the darkest night.

The light glows brighter than life

and I embrace it

with hope and joy in my heart.

I will leave the pit!

Was it a test? I do not know,

but I have survived

and here I am, stronger for it.

I'm here, I am alive!

I know that if I need You,

You are always there

with open arms for the lost.

It's all in the Book!

                                    Daemon Ⓒ 1991

Pre-Menstrual What??? I'm Only One Pill Away From Crazy!

I don't know how many people in the world suffer from depression at any given point in time . . . I don't think anyone really knows.  Sure, scientists can throw statistical calculations out there and come up with an estimated number of people who are depressed, but when it really comes down to it, it is still a guess.  I am one of those statistics and learning to live with depression is a life-long quest that at times provides me with humorous outcomes and other times dark ones.

For years I suffered from "migraines" that made any little noise make my head feel like it would explode and even small amounts of light would burn through my eyes and pierce my brain like an ice pick. I put the word migraines in quotes because that was what my doctor diagnosed me with when I told him about the issues I was having with being angry and unhappy, how I would yell at my husband and children for stupid reasons, cry because I was overwhelmed, and get headaches that made me vomit.  He also diagnosed me as being under stress - at the time I had two very demanding jobs, two young children, a husband, and lots of bills to pay (like most of the population). I think it was easier for my doctor to focus on the words "overwhelmed" and "headaches" and tie all of my issues to stress induced  "migraines".  I did suffer from migraines and I did have stress, however, the other symptoms were kind of ignored and I didn't pursue further treatment because I now had a diagnosis.  I had decided in my own mind that the stress and migraines were the cause of all my other symptoms just like my doctor thought.  It was easy enough to think this way because my symptoms were not constant.  They would come and go, usually coincided with my migraines.

During the "bad" days, I hated my husband and resented my children.  I felt like I did everything and they all just wanted me around to be their maid.  I wanted to quit my job and move far away because I just knew life would be better somewhere else. Besides, nobody appreciated anything I did and nobody would miss me anyway.  I became over sensitive about the most menial issues and would scream like a banshee at my family over stupid things like "walking too loud".  Seriously? Who walks too loud? I cried at television commercials, I became more compulsive than normal, and I ate . . . boy, did I eat!  I could sit down and consume thousands of calories in one sitting - I would justify it by telling myself that nobody cared if I got fat and died.  I ate because at the time the tastes and textures running across my tongue provided a euphoric feeling that made me forget about every other issue that plagued me. I had thoughts of killing myself and came up with multiple plans that could be carried out at any time - I thank God that my base religious upbringing had me believing suicide was sin that resulted in a direct path to Hell. That alone is the only reason I am here to writing this today.

Then, the "bad" days would just disappear like someone turned off a switch and life was good again . . . for a while.

Eventually I became convinced I was truly crazy and that I was turning into (gasp) my mother. It really wasn't too far fetched to believe I was going crazy - I have quite an extensive family history of mental illness and the crazy train had finally stopped at my house.  At the time I didn't know that I suffered from a specific form of depression and one day God, fate, or something stepped in and changed my life path.

My doctor is a very busy General Practitioner and often patients need to call and schedule a couple months in advance to get an appointment.  I tried to schedule my yearly physical in advance but at the time the receptionist stated my doctor's new schedule wasn't available yet. I was asked to call back in a few weeks to schedule my appointment.  "Sure, I could do that".  So, four weeks later I called back to schedule my physical and was told that there were no openings until two months later than what I needed.  What? "I was calling two months before I actually needed to be seen and had to wait over four months?"  Whatever!  I was upset (I think I was having a migraine) and after doing some Internet research I decided to schedule an appointment with a Gynecologist at another branch of the clinic. I also thought that getting another opinion about a couple "female" things would be good.

The day of my appointment came and Dr. Anderson came in to the exam room and introduced herself.  Since I was a new patient and it was my first appointment with her she wanted to get a full history before the physical assessment.  I don't recall what question caused the dam to break while we were discussing my history, but all of a sudden the little Dutch boy pulled his finger out of the hole in the dam - words and emotions just started gushing out of me.  I sat there with tears streaming down my face, baring my soul to this doctor who sat calmly listening to me and asking the occasional question to draw more information out of me. I told her about the years of mental anguish, how I thought I was going crazy, and how sometimes I hated my life and other times I loved it.  I talked about how crappy I sometimes treated others but at the time I didn't care or couldn't seem to stop myself.  I explained how the guilt and shame associated with all of this made me have thoughts of wanting to die so I wouldn't have to deal with anything anymore. Then, after some time and many questions later she said these magic words - "You are not crazy, based on the information you provided, you have a disorder called pre-menstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD), and we have medicine that can help you".  She finished the physical to make sure there was nothing else going on and then we talked more about PMDD and medication used to treat it. I left the office that day with something that had been missing in my life for a long time - HOPE!

As it turns out, the medication used to treat PMDD is taken based on a woman's menstrual cycle and the medication is taken for two weeks on and two weeks off (give or take some tweaking).  The treatment meant I had to track my monthly cycle, but calendars and phone apps helped with that process.  I started taking the medication right away and it worked within days. I felt like a miracle had happened in my life.  I was happy again, I didn't hate everyone, I loved my husband and children, I enjoyed my job, and life was good again.  My husband told me one day, "I feel like I have my wife back again".  He may have felt like he had his wife back, but I felt like I had my life back. I am so grateful that circumstances beyond my control led me down a path that allowed me to be back in control . . . of my life.

If you or anyone you know can relate to my story, I encourage you to talk with your doctor.  PMDD is a very real illness and often gets missed for a variety of reasons. If you want to know more about PMDD, the Mayo Clinic has information on its website: https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/premenstrual-syndrome/expert-answers/pmdd/faq-20058315

Tell Me What I Want - what I really, really, want!

I never considered myself a person who was opposed to change but I do find at times I go along with or don't go along with change because I am more concerned with how it will affect others rather than how it will affect me.  I understand that change is all within my control but I also understand that some changes can have a domino effect on the people surrounding me - people I love and wouldn't hurt for the world.  When that is the case then how can change be accomplished?

I guess one option would be to find alternatives using a process that is similar to what is recommended in negotiation or conflict resolution.  I could go for the "everyone gives a little and all are willing to accept the negotiations without feeling like they were screwed" (my own little verbal spin on the outcome).  However, I am kind of a selfish person, I willingly admit this, and in my own head I want things to be my way all the time. Even when I compromise and agree to give a little, I really don't want to and I am just being a momentary pacifist who later continues to think and stew about the fact that even though I agreed, I still didn't get what I wanted in the first place.  I guess I am just going to put into words some of the things I feel I gave up over the years, willingly, but still am stewing about.  Maybe after putting some of my thoughts on paper I will realize how petty they are and I will be able to move on.

I never, and I mean NEVER, wanted to live in the country or on a farm.  I live in the country on a farm like piece of property. At the time I readily agreed to the purchase of a property that would one day become our home base and I never brought up my likes or dislikes.  Why?  Because, at the time the property became available, I was led to believe that I would be getting a job promotion and believed I would need a place to live that was closer to work.  The aforementioned property presented itself at the right time for the right price and my husband was in love with the land, location, and we both loved the price. My husband grew up in the country on a pseudo farm and had endured the prior six years of our marriage living in varius rural small towns.  He hated living in town and wasn't used to the lack of privacy that comes from having neighbors. We talked about buying and develop the property, moving in a trailer house to live in for a short time, and eventually building a new house.  The property we purchased had a combined sixteen acres of farmland, woods, and what would later become grass covered yard. We followed through with most of the plan but instead of building a house, we purchased an older home from my hometown and moved it to our property.  It was another compromise because the price was right. Sounds like a dream right?  I wasn't my dream and I don't know if it was my husband's either but, I agreed and here I am, twenty-nine years later, living in the country on a pseudo farm, in a house that was built in 1937, as had various upgrades over the years, and continues to be a work in process that will most likely will never be completed. I have to say that I agreed to each decision at the time because they were choices that best fit our immediate needs.

What did really I lose by this particular agreement?  Nothing monetary or tangible, but I lost the dream of living in a town where I could walk to the store, have a variety neighbors that I could choose to become friends with and create a social group of people with interests similar to my own. I would have been able to ride my bike to work if I wanted, I could quick run to the store without having to drive.  I would have a small, quaint yard that didn't require hours and hours of upkeep. I loved living in town growing up, albeit the town I lived in was tiny, but I was able to be part of a community and I think that is the single thing that has bothered me as a result of living in the country. I lost my dream of what I thought my permanent home would be like.  What I find amazing is that it still comes back to nag at my mind from time to time - and I let it! But, this is my home, I made conscious decisions that led to the purchase of it, and I will pull up my big girl panties and suck it up . . . At least I have a home!

As for the need to belong to a neighborhood group, I did fill some of my social needs by becoming active in different groups within the community.  I joined a local volunteer ambulance service and became part of a group of caring, funny, and intense individuals and created lifelong friendships with several of them.  I became a member of our neighboring church, attended Sunday worship, taught Sunday School, and joined a Bible study group and Ladies Aid. I belonged to an archery league and met different group of people - I became aquainted with the various members but didn't really form lasting friendships in this endeavor. I had a job at a local manufacturing facility and had plenty of interaction on a daily basis and even became close friends over the years with several of the people I worked with.  Then, as an adult I fulfilled a lifelong dream and went back to college - this resulted in a job change and a whole new group of people to interact with. However, it slowly caused the death of my physical social interactions.

So, what happened to me when my physical social world deteriorated?  Welcome social media world!!  I could interact with family, friends, and people I didn't even know and all I had to do was log into my phone, computer, or tablet any time, day or night. Bam! I had knowledge of everyone's life, their opinions, and many other things I didn't even want knowledge of.  I could share tidbits of my life without having to leave my house. I became consumed by social media and instant messaging to the point that over the years I quit physically socializing with others.  This habit didn't just happen over night and it was a total shock the day I realized I had become a hermit.

I had quit going to the library to check out books - why bother when I could just purchase them online or download them to my reader.  I quit going to church on a regular basis because it didn't fit into my work schedule or I was just to tired or lazy to get up and get ready in the mornings (I worked mostly evening/night shifts at the time and I was attending college while working). In 2016, after developing health problems, I officially retired from the volunteer service and chose not to stay active in other capacities, further adding to the isolation from "real" people.  Although college was a great choice, it had a very bad impact on my ability and drive to interact with others until I completed my degree.  I was working and attending college either full time or part time between 2007 and 2016 and during those nine years I slowly, unknowingly, isolated myself while life went on without me.  I only attended functions that were required and I seldom planned social engagement with friends.  I lost touch with people who weren't part of my online social media world and over time I barely knew what was happening within my own family. I had no clue of the amount of time and effort that would be required for me to go back to school and work while doing so.  I have never regretted my decision to go back to college and change careers, but I do regret that over the years I let my physical social world deteriorated to the point of being almost non-existent. Some of the lost relationships were never able to be fully recovered and that makes my heart ache. Now, it is time to focus on rebuilding my physical social life.

I dreamed of having that white picket fence that had the flowers spread out in front of it, the vine filled archway over my sidewalk, and a yard that was cute and quaint where I could invite friends over to just relax and visit. When you live in town you have to be conscious of what your yard looks like - to me this translates to "you can't turn your property into a junk yard".  You keep your yard neat and tidy and weekly you put your garbage out at the curb to be collected and taken away.  We had garbage service out in the country but eventually we got rid of it.  You don't need to pay someone good money to come and pick up your garbage when you live in the country. After all, the thirty dollars saved can buy a lot of other junk and garbage can be composted, burned in the burn barrel, or recycled. But, what about the other stuff that falls outside those parameters? Well, here is some advice - don't worry about that stuff, you never have to get rid of it, you can just stick it into whatever nook or cranny you have available and hang onto it for eternity. If you end up with too much of the stuff, just build another shed or start storing items in the old vehicles sitting on the back part of the acreage - you know, that vast area that nobody else can see from the road without a drone but is the perfect spot for dumping every vehicle you have ever owned.  It doesn't even matter if the vehicles don't run, you don't want to get rid of valuable items like that because they become automatic storage sheds that are free of cost and can keep your junk contained and dry all year long. Yes, this is a sore point that occasionally causes strife in my marriage . . .  I think I will just focus on the fence and flowers in the years too come.

I freely admit that I like to collect some things, but not to the point of hoarding and I don't get panic attacks at the thought of getting rid of something.  I am sometimes the opposite - I get panicky at the thought of NOT getting rid of crap and fear that it will always be haunting and cluttering our home and property.  I would love to get a construction dumpster and fill it with whatever I could physically remove from my house. I dream of putting a sign up in my driveway that says "come into my house, browse, and make and offer on whatever item catches your attention" (certain personal items excluded of course). I fantasize about having two strong men at my beck and call to just move stuff out of my house.  "Bruno, haul out that old chair . . . " or "Ted, take these twenty totes in the attic to Goodwill" . . . "Get it all done before my husband gets home from work and there will be a bonus bag of cookies waiting for you"! However, I don't think my husband has this same fantasy and if he did it would consist of two little old men bringing him trailer loads of free items.

Most of the items I have, I use. If I no longer use an item and it serves no purpose for me, I have no problem giving, selling, or throwing it away.  There are a couple of exceptions and I hang onto these items because of sentimental reasons. However, I can list the items on one hand and if it wouldn't piss my mother off to know I got rid of two of them, they would be gone today.  That's the other part of having stuff - it gets given to us with the expectation that it will be cherished and displayed so any time the giver shows up at your house, there it is in all its glory! What is up with that?  What is the statute of limitations on how long a person has to keep a gift?  I used to have items packed away that I would pull out and put on display whenever I knew the original giver was going to stop by. Thank goodness none of them ever just dropped in out of the blue because I don't know what I would have said had they noticed their item was missing from my decor. "Bruno, Ted, fill up some garbage bags for the dumpster divers . . . ".

You would think by listening to me ramble that I live in a remote forest area and a trip to town requires precise planning (it really doesn't).  You probably envision that my yard is acres and acres of wild grass that needs to be taken down with a sickle mower and that it's filled with abandoned vehicles and littered with outbuildings used only for storage. You probably envision opening any door on my property and being buried alive by items falling out. Well, it isn't really quite that bad from an outside perspective (so I'm told).  The visual that may pop up in your mind should include organization rather than chaos.  The outbuildings are strategically placed and are visually appealing.  The vehicles are hidden in the back acreage and are lined up nicely where the grass meets the edge of the woods.  The trailers and boats are parked out of the way along the edge of the woods toward the back of the property and most of the "stuff" is hidden from site.  So, to the naked eye there doesn't appear to be much chaos - but for heaven's sake, do not open any door on this property if you do not want to be inundated with a plethora of "STUFF". It won't fall and bury you like an avalanche, but your eyes may start to bleed.  Unless you are a collector yourself and then I might just have to invite you back the next time hubby goes on a hunting trip.  If that happens, please don't forget to bring Bruno and Ted with you . . . a girl needs to have at least one fantasy!