I've been tagged by Bardiac for the meme started by Pz Myers at Pharyngula to demonstrate evolution in cyberspace.First, the rules:There are a set of questions below that are all of the form, "The best [subgenre] [medium] in [genre] is...".Copy the questions, and before answering them, you may modify them in a limited way, carrying out no more than two of these operations:You can leave them exactly as is.You can delete any one question.You can mutate either the genre, medium, or subgenre of any one question.For instance, you could change "The best time travel novel in SF/Fantasy is..." to "The best time travel novel in Westerns is...", or "The best time travel movie in SF/Fantasy is...", or "The best romance novel in SF/Fantasy is...".You can add a completely new question of your choice to the end of the list, as long as it is still in the form "The best [subgenre] [medium] in [genre] is...".You must have at least one question in your set, or you've gone extinct, and you must be able to answer it yourself, or you're not viable.Then answer your possibly mutant set of questions. Please do include a link back to the blog you got them from, to simplify tracing the ancestry, and include these instructions.Finally, pass it along to any number of your fellow bloggers. Remember, though, your success as a Darwinian replicator is going to be measured by the propagation of your variants, which is going to be a function of both the interest your well-honed questions generate and the number of successful attempts at reproducing them.My great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandparent is Pharyngula.My great- great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandparent is Metamagician and the Hellfire Club.My great- great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandparent is Flying Trilobite.My great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandparent is A Blog Around the Clock.My great- great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandparent is Primate Diaries.My great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandparent is Thus Spake Zuska.My great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandparent is a k8, a cat, a mission.My great- great-great-great-great-great-great-grandparent is Monkeygirl.My great-great-great-great-great-great-grandparent is DancingFish.My great-great-great-great-great-grandparent is Dr. Brazen Hussy.My great-great-great-great-grandparent is AddyMy great-great-great-grandparent is Mommy/ProfMygreat- great-grandparent is Tree of KnowledgeMy great- great -grandparent is Harmonia's Necklace My grand-parent is Bardiac My parent is Artemis


The best old television series in comedy is: I Love Lucy

The best cult movie in comedy is: Monty Python's Holy Grail

The best novel in classic fiction is: Little Women

The best high-fat food in cooking is: quiche

The best recent movie in comedy is: Ice Age

The best fairy-tale film in fantasy is: Beauty and the Beast

The best fiction novel in young adult literature is: Little Women & Little Men

I have put the changes that I've made into italics. If you want to see what the questions were how I recieved them, you can go to Artemis's blog and check them out.
I tag TK, Dr. Dino,Deneice and Angie.

Aftermath

Note ... I've done something unusual with this post. I was not looking for comfort, nor sympathy, nor empathy ...nor advice ... I needed to get this out of my system and in a way that was more than just to me. I think, I needed to tell someone. However, to have someone comment ..."I'm sorry" would not help. So, I've closed the comments on the post. I don't believe I've ever done this on my blog, but this time, this post was just for me to tell someone, but not to gain sympathy. So, for those of you who look for the comment button, it's not there. Sorry.


I contemplated writing about Thanksgiving. I have, a lot to be Thankful for. A LOT. My husband still being alive, is an amazing gift, I will forever be grateful for. The chances of me being a widow this Thanksgiving, seemed, last June, to be greater than lesser. I have two extremely great kids who've beaten odds that most people will never even begin to understand. I have a house that a lot of people in our situation never have the opportunity to have. I have, a future that 5 years ago, I did not think I would have. I have my book, how many people write a book and get it published by a royalty publisher? The Myasthenia Gravis, that was so very difficult just 6 years ago, is responding FAR better to the Cellcept than it ever did to the Imuran.
I can walk up stairs, I can exercise, I can actually sleep through the night without having to get up and take Mestinon ... I can take timespan Mestinon and get through the day without having to take Mestinon every 3 hours, plus 2 timespans, just to function ...and still sometimes have to have help getting dressed, and not be able to walk distances, or up stairs ... or ... any number of things I take for granted at this time.
I am incredibly grateful for those things. I know that you can read the but coming at the end of this, and there is.

Any psychiatrist, psychologist, and most ER docs, and primary care doc will tell you that holidays are the hardest time of the year for people who've suffered trauma in their lives. People go into holidays with expectations of good times, their family will be perfect,

"THIS YEAR the family will get together and the fights won't start, Uncle Jim won't drink (I don't have an Uncle Jim by the way) and everyone will be happy and Norman Rockwell will be able to paint a picture of our family gathering!"

Then ... the day comes ...and the green bean casserole burns, and Uncle Jim shows up with 2 drinks already under his belt and immediately starts to drink some more. Mom and Dad are arguing because Dad is watching football instead of helping and Aunt Sally is complaining because Grandma is critisizing the outfit she's wearing.

The same thing happened last year ...and the year before and the year before. The expectation of the Norman Rockwell painting flies out the window and you're left hoping that he doesn't show up like you invited him to and then the doorbell rings and you have your own melt down.

This year ... I'd purposefully planned a quiet Thanksgiving with just my immediate family ... my mom over for the Macy's Parade, but not the meal. I would NOT answer the phone when my Father called, that way, when he said something offensive, he could not hurt my feelings.

Somehow, it still managed to blow up in my face. Two years ago, I recieved, from my father, a Christmas card. In the card was an obituary notice of my all time favorite teacher.
That, in and of itself was difficult.
That, I could have accepted, all though I would have been annoyed and thought it would have been crass and uncouth. However, attached to the obituary was a note that said "I know that it's not appropriate to send this with a christmas card, but I thought you'd want to know right away."

EXCUSE ME??? You *KNOW* this is unappropriate to send with the Christmas card, and yet, you send it anyway. You acknowlege TO me, that you've done something that will shock me and hurt me and is inappropriate timing? How ultimately crass.

I showed it to my psychiatrist, because I wondered if I was over reacting. He was appalled and asked me if he often tried to hurt me on purpose like this? Ok, so I'm NOT over reacting. At least it wasn't me.

I then found out, that my teacher had died 3 weeks earlier, before my birthday, before Thanksgiving, and my Father had talked to me 2 times between the sending of the card ...and my teacher's death and obituary. Ok, so it was quite intentional. Thanks Dad.

So, We come to summer 2005, I sent him a letter (and blogged about it) I told him that he does things that hurt me. He, was non responsive and says "I do no such thing!" Yeah, ok, whatever ..but if you continue to do so,I will not continue to tolerate it.

February 2007, he gets married again ...the weekend of the anniversary of my stepfather's suicide. Gee, thanks Dad. Just stab me some more.

Come summer of 2007, and he comes for a visit. My husband enters the hospital May 23, CRITICALLY ill and we don't know if he's going to make it. My father, decides since he's coming in mid june, he'll just wait to come then. Gee, you think you might be *needed* ???? No, we can't change our plans ... we're coming when we're coming.

He's asked a few times to not visit because of how badly Don is feeling ... he shows up anyway ... heaven forbid that someone say he didn't show up to visit his sick son in law. (ya know, the fact that he was ASKED NOT TO, might have been more important than the fact that he did)

So, then, he's sent an invitation to our renewal of our vows for our 20th anniversary. (December 2) He never responds to me. Period. I still, have yet to hear from him. At all. He's not said BOO. Not a single acknowlegement that he even recieved the invitation. He did, however tell my son that he had something else to do that day. And since we didn't tell him before he came this summer, it would be a burden for him to come this winter. By the way, he did not come to my wedding (my first wedding) because it was "in the middle of the school year". It was however, thanksgiving weekend. He was a schoolteacher.
My sister, got married May 20 ... his school did not get out till Mid June ... there was no holiday weekend. He had to fly out on Saturday morning and fly out Sunday night. But for my wedding ..it was in the middle of the school year so he could not make it ...a holiday weekend. (granted, that marriage did not last, but, he did not know that, and it is beside the point, he was not there, he's never been to a wedding of mine, and was not going to be at my renewal ceremony)

We have cancelled the renewal ceremony because of health issues ... I wish we were having it. But his not being there, would not have bothered me, just his refusal to.

Now, all of this, some people would say there might be reasons for ... except ..that he left my mother the day that he found out that she was pregnant with me. He's been rejecting me since the day he found out that I was in existance ...

Is it me? No, it's his problem, I just get to pay a price for it.

Yesterday ... he did not call. I was relieved ... till I got an email at midnight. I would have been happier if he'd not made any contact at all. I had gone through the day thinking "he's getting it! He's finally getting it!!!"
Then came the email .."I tried to call you, but no one answered, is this your phone number?"
No, it wasn't ...
but the problem is ... he has my cell phone number, he has Don's cell phone number ... and he could have gotten our number from information, my sister, off the internet ... from my mother (who he has her number) and off the web ... not to mention that he also, as far as he knew, our home number is connected to the internet, with an 8' phone cord and we didn't use our home phone for conversation. (this, has been true for EIGHT YEARS!!!!!!!) He's not called our home phone to talk to us, since we got our cell phones.

So, emailing me at midnight, telling me that he and his new wife did not go anywhere yesterday, but that he tried to call, but could not get through ...all it did was say "I didn't really want to talk to you, but I had to say *I* tried, but it's your fault I didn't get through"

I'm done, I'm simply done.
Why this hurts, I don't know. I guess things between parents and children always will. A daughter deserves her father's love. It's his fault. I don't deserve this, and I know this! It's weird to be hurt by something that you don't even want. I guess, when you're satisfied by the lack of contact, it's one thing, but when they pretend to contact you, and then blame you, it's an opening of an old wound.

We won't even go into the sappy insincere birthday card he sent this week.

Thank You - Southpark CC

This, is my church. This video, was made by a wonderful guy named Foster Cryer.
Tomorrow, I will post his website. He's a terrific photographer.

He did a great job putting this together for our church! Thank you Foster. If you search youtube you can find a couple of other video's he's done of our church ... search under fostercryer (one word).

TOM HOPKINS 21ST CENTURY PASTOR SOUTHPARK TULSA

This is our other video. I like it better. Yes, this is really our new pastor.

TOM HOPKINS SOUTH PARK COMMUNITY CHURCH TULSA

This, is my church. This, is my new pastor!

Chapter two of Willow's Bridge (NaNoWriMe

climbed back onto the bus quietly. Her gym bag was thumping against the back of her legs with each step, reminding her that she wasn’t the winner she thought she was. “That’s” right step; “What” left step; “you” right step “get” left step. “That’s” right step; “What” left step; “you” right step “get” left step. “That’s” right step; “What” left step; “you” right step “get” left step. “That’s” right step; “What” left step; “you” right step “get” left step.
She finally reached the back of the bus and plopped her bag down and just about fell down onto the seat herself. She scooted over knowing that one of the girls would be sitting next to her for the ride home. At this point, she didn’t even care if it was Claire who sat next to her. Coming toward her were Kelly and Sandy, Sandy sat next to her and Kelly sat right in front of them. Sitting sideways, and putting her bag in her seat so no one would sit there.
Sandy and Kelly were laughing and so were many of the girls. Even the coach didn’t seem upset, angry or defeated. Cassandra sat there confused. She wondered if these girls were playing the same game she just played. Why were they not upset? Did they not realize they needed to go home and face their families and tell them they lost?
Suddenly, she realized, most of them, if not all of them, had their families there. They had no one to face, except those at school on Monday. They’d be facing the school together, as a team. The school, would be supportive of the team, not critical. Cassandra realized that she was alone in telling of their losses today. She suddenly felt more despondent, more alone and wished even more that she could just escape to the garden of the willow tree.
She stared out the window and wondered if Kwang Se ever felt alone? Her mind wondered back to the time that it always went to at a time like this …back to the willow garden.

Kwang Se looked out her bedroom window in the palace. She wondered if her days would ever be different. She looked at the fence that bordered the garden. How many people had praised it’s craftsmanship? Her father had paid an emperors price for that fence. Its beauty probably was incomparable in lands far and near.
Who knew that it was not meant to be decorative? She looked at the dew on the grass. The drops of waters sparkled like diamonds on the blades of grass. Each one reflecting the sunlight and shrinking as the sun warmed them, till they disappeared into the day. As she watched the dew disappear, Kwang Se’s eyes moved toward the butterflies flitting around the flowers. There were two or three of them diving and pitching toward each other, then alternatively at the flower as if they can’t make up their mind which they want to play with; the flower or the other butterflies.
Kwang Se got up and got dressed into her most comfortable daytime dress. She hoped that if she went into the garden this morning, no one would notice, especially her father.
“Just a walk in the early morning” she said out loud and startled herself.
Kwang Se carefully brushed her long black hair. She decided to leave it straight today. She could put it into a bun later. But for now, she’d let it hang down and let it be free. Putting it up, would take much too long and increase her chance of being caught and stopped before her escape into her beloved garden.
Kwang Se put on her slippers. She knew that the grass was dry enough to not get her slippers wet, so she didn’t worry about getting into trouble for soiling her slippers. She quietly opened the front door, hoping none of the servants heard her, they might alert her father to her presence.
Once she closed the door, Kwang Se sprinted for the creek by the bridge under the Willow tree. How she loved that tree. She stopped and picked a small branch from the tree to hold while she walked through the garden. She wanted to breathe and smell the life of the tree while she walked.
She turned slowly toward the creek and looked at the flowers, trying to find where the butterflies had been just a few minutes before. There was no sign of the 3 flighty creatures that had brought a smile to her face. The smell of the flowers wafted up to her and she was tempted to just sit down and soak it all in. Kwang Se knew if she did, she’d sit there and get lost in the scent and not get up. Then she’d get into trouble, again.
She picked a beautiful blue morning glory and smelled it’s nectar. Was there ever anything as sweet as the smell of a flower just after the dew of the morning? She wondered. As she worked her way through the flowers, her thoughts wondered. How wonderful it would be to be able to share this with a friend.
If only one of the girls from the village could come and spend a few days with her! They could have tea in the garden and they could sit under the willow tree and giggle about boys and they could fly kites in the field. But, Kwang Se knew her father was never going to allow her to leave the grounds, nor bring in a child for her to talk to. She was company enough for him, and he said, he was company enough for her. If only he understood how much her heart ached to share her dreams with someone just like her!
As she got to the fence that was so respected among the villagers. Her mood turned sour. Why did they think this fence was such a thing of beauty? Did they not know it was not only to keep her in, but to keep them out as well? Did they not know it was not a piece of architecture to be admired but a wall of separation and division?
What would happen if she crossed the bridge by the Willow tree that led past the fence of beauty? What if she just walked over it and kept walking into the village?
As Kwang Se started to think her rebellious, thoughts, her heart started to beat fast. Excitement started to build. Such thoughts had never occurred to her that there might be a life outside of the palace and her garden. Then her eyes caught sight of the Willow tree. Could she leave the willow tree? She loved her beautiful garden, but she so desperately wanted the company of others who shared her love of beauty.


The bus came to a stop and Cassandra was forced back into the present. Time seemed to dissipate when she ‘visited’ Kwang Se. ‘If only’ Cassandra thought, ‘I could have been friends with her.’ Cassandra looked around the parking lot for her parent’s car. She saw her father’s secretary instead. Cassandra didn’t know if she was relieved or disappointed. It meant she didn’t have to tell them till later that she lost, if they’d even ask.. but it also meant they couldn’t be bothered with picking her up.

Her father’s secretary, Heather, smiled at her and told her that she was there to take Cassandra to the restaurant where everyone was celebrating the recital that was up and coming. The practice had gone perfect and Camille’s song had been flawless.
“Not a surprise” Cassandra said, as she swung her bag into the back of Heather’s car. She was nice enough to swing by the house and let Cassandra take a quick shower and change. Cassandra assumed it was because she didn’t look presentable or worse … her mother had asked that she make sure of it, so Cassandra didn’t embarrass them by coming in her ‘sports costume.’
Dressed in a simple dress and minimal make up, Cassandra came back out and the secretary gave a tense smile. Little did Cassandra know that Heather approved fully of how Cassandra looked, but she knew that Cassandra’s parents were going to be less than supportive.
They got into the car and arrived at the restaurant just as the food was being served. Dorothy had taken it upon herself to order for Cassandra in her absence. That didn’t quite surprise her as much as the fact that she’d ordered for her father’s secretary as well. Cassandra could see the surprise on Heather’s face. Was she offended? Cassandra couldn’t quite tell. Maybe her mother’s lack of manners weren’t just obvious to Cassandra after all!


The next obstacle that Cassandra faced was getting through the meal. With over a dozen people present, she hoped no one would even pay attention to her and her food. She knew that the fact that she’d been to a game was already done and forgotten. No one in her family had asked yet. They would not ask. She would not have to tell them of the loss.
As Cassandra looked at the plate being put in front of her, she wanted to get up and walk away. She knew it would be unacceptable behavior and her parents would never tolerate it. How could her mom ever have thought she’d even want to eat duck? Duck is one of the highest calorie meats that she could think of. She didn’t even know that anyone would fry a duck, as if it didn’t have enough calories on it’s own. Cassandra stared at her plate of fried duck, placed elegantly on the plate next to scalloped potatoes and snow peas swimming in a butter sauce.
The calories staring at Cassandra made her head swim. The cheese on the scalloped potatoes alone would be more than the calories Cassandra had allotted for the day. Yet, here she was, caught in the middle of this large group of people, this high fat food and no where to run. Cassandra picked up her knife and fork and started to cut up the duck. She cut the duck into tiny pieces. As small as she could get pieces, she kept cutting until the bites could be recognized as meat, much less fried duck.
Then she put down her knife, laying it gently across the top of her plate. She looked around the table. Everyone was talking, and eating their food. She’d yet to take a single bite and some were already half way done with their meals. Camille was obviously enjoying her dinner. Cassandra briefly wondered what it would be like to sit at a table and enjoy the experience. She couldn’t remember ever enjoying it. She thought for a moment, wondering if she’d always been afraid to eat.
She took her fork and started to separate the foods from each other. Putting the potatoes into their own box, they must make a perfect square before she could take a bite. The snow peas would not cooperate. They were uneven and their butter sauce ran. Cassandra could feel the panic rising in her throat.
The foods must go into the boxes.
They cannot touch each other.
They cannot contaminate each other.
They cannot continue to flow outside the parameters set!

Cassandra reached for a dinner roll in the basket of rolls in front of her. She ripped the roll into half, then half again. Four equal portions of the roll. Then she carefully took the crust off each quarter of the roll, and set the crust on the plate beside her dinner plate. She took one of the quarters to absorb the butter sauce. She could feel some of the tension and panic leaving. Her fingers relaxed a bit as the plate’s patter was visible under where the butter sauce had been just a moment before.
She put the butter filled roll down, and picked up another, to absorb the cheese sauce from the potatoes. She slowly dabbed it up, making sure the roll got every single calorie that she was unwilling to digest. With each stroke of the roll on the plate, Cassandra was able to breathe just a little better.
With the clear boxes and no sauces running, Cassandra then started to cut the snow peas into smaller bite size pieces as she had done the duck. She knew that cutting the snow peas would make it smaller, and would make it appear that she’d eaten more than she ever intended to eat. After she’d cut the peas just as small as she could, she took a small nibble. She chewed the requisite ten chews, then the necessary eight that followed. Ess Enn Ohh Double Eww, Pee, eee, Aaa, Ess. She spelled the word out in her mind instead of counting. She needed to do that because of all the people around her. The chatter was so hard to tune out. Not impossible, but hard.
She gulped down some water to help her swallow the small bite of food and took another bite. One two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, Ess Enn Ohh Double Eww, Pee, eee, Aaa, Ess. Then four gulps of water to help her swallow. The anxiety level increased to a point where sweat was actually forming on her forehead. She knew that if she took another bite, she’d have a reaction and everyone would watch.
She turned her attention to the potatoes, and started to cut them into the tiny shreds she’d done with the rest of her food. Cut, cut, cut, cut, slice, slice, slice. The conversation going on around her sounded like buzzing. She was lost in a world that was filled with food that she was obsessed with not consuming.
She thought for a brief moment. Scalloped potatoes. She’d be able to take her time on chewing this one. She took a small bite like she had the peas. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, Ess, Sea, aaa, ell, ell, ohh, pee, eee, dee, pee, ohh, tee, aaa, tee, ohh, eee, ess. She picked up the water to help her swallow the remnants of what was left in her mouth. She took another bite and repeated the routine. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, Ess, Sea, aaa, ell, ell, ohh, pee, eee, dee, pee, ohh, tee, aaa, tee, ohh, eee, ess. Again, she took four gulps of water to down the food that she imagined being left in her mouth. The reality was, after chewing that many times, the food had been all but annihilated.
Then she was left with the duck. The horrendous, high calorie, high fat duck that her mother had for some unknown reason, thought she’d actually want. Who in the world eats duck? Took her fork and put as little as she could manage on the fork. There was no winning with the duck. It was either high fat meat, or there was fried breading. How in the world could she do this? A four letter word, that wasn’t nearly enough! She put her fork back down and picked up one of the quarters of bread that she hadn’t used to absorb the sauces. She dabbed it all over the duck to pick up any possible extra fat or grease that might be on the duck. She put it back down and then took several drinks of water.
The waiter came by and filled her water, he was also taking plates and asked her if she was done. She readily put her napkin on top of her plate and handed it to him hoping no one had seen how little she’d eaten. She could not wait to get out of there.
Other’s were ordering desserts and she knew she’d be stuck there for a while, while everyone sat and visited over dessert and coffee. She asked for some lemon for her water. “At least I’ll get some vitamin C” She justified to herself, the lack of calories and getting some nutrition in the water.

Cassandra asked her mother if it’d be ok if she went and looked at the Koi Pond outside of the restaurant. Her mother said that yes, it’d be fine. Cassandra felt silly. She was fourteen years old and asking if she could do something like she was nine. Why hadn’t she just excused herself from the table and quietly told her mom what she was going to do. Sometimes she felt like she was just a dumb kid.
Cassandra stepped outside into the cool night air. She loved this time of year. She sat down on the rocks next to the Koi Pond and marveled at the beautiful fish. The fish were large, and friendly. They loved attention and they all swam toward her. She knew they were looking for food, but she didn’t have any. Cassandra dangled her fingers into the water and a few of the fish swam away, but most of them kept coming.
Cassandra thought Kwang Se and the Willow garden. Kwang Se must have gotten to see Koi every day in her garden. No Chinese garden would have been complete without Koi.


Kwang Se finished her breakfast with her father. The flowers she’d picked earlier in the day were in a vase in her room. He seemed to be unaware that she’d been out in the garden. She knew this was a good thing. Her father did seem to be in a good mood today. So maybe it would not have mattered.
The Emperor looked at his daughter and contemplated what she might be thinking.
“So, my daughter, what time are your tutors due today?”
“ They will be here shortly, my father, and my learning will be hard, and swift and they will leave the palace before you’ve even known they were here.”
Her father smiled, his daughter was not only learning the history of the great Chinese world, but she was becoming wise beyond her years.
“How is your flute coming along? I heard you playing beneath the willow tree the other day. Not all of it sounded like the lessons you have been given.”
There was a certain sternness to his voice with this last sentence.
Kwang Se was not sure how to answer.
“Yes, my Father, I was practicing under the shadow of my most favorite tree. I practiced my scales, and the music given to me by my instructor.” Kwang Se answered carefully, “Then, and only then, did I practice some music I have been working on that comes from within myself.”
Her father’s shoulders stiffened.
“See to it, that your instructions always come first.”
Kwang Se was so relieved that there was no mention of the messenger boy. How she would have answered to her direct eye contact with him, there simply was no answer.
“Father, my Father. May I take a stroll along the Koi pond before the instructor’s come today? I could practice the names of the flowers and the water garden plants while I am down there. It would not be wasted time.”
“Go, my child. Do not disturb me today. We may be going to war.”
Kwang Se got up and walked quickly to the door before he changed his mind.
As she walked toward the pond, her mind immediately went to the messenger boy. Could it possibly be the nation that he came from? Surely, it is not his land? Oh, they could not be getting ready to war with him. Kwang Se had never seen such beautiful eyes, the idea of being at war with him, broke her heart! She prayed peace would be found before a solution of war was sought.
She reached the Koi pond and looked up at the bridge. Just a few days ago, this young man who’d changed her way of looking at the world crossed that bridge. Would he ever cross that bridge again? Kwang Se sat down at the edge of the pond and dangled her fingers in the water. The Koi came to the edge of the pond hoping for some food. Kwang Se would not disappoint.
As she tossed them some food, she talked to the fish.::: She had names for some of the more distinct fish. The white one with the one orange dot on it’s head, she called Bride. She often imagined Bride as the leader among the fish. She sparkled the brightest in the water. Surely, the other fish knew that she was the most glorious. There was an orange one, as deep orange as the oranges that grew on the orange tree behind the castle. He had black dots all over him, as if someone had carelessly shaken a pen right after being in the ink well. She called him Feather, for the feather pen that she used to carefully write her letters.
She laughed as Bride and Feather fought over a crumb she tossed into the water. Suddenly, their reflection seemed to be covered by shade. It wasn’t cloudy, and there were no tree’s here to block the sun, so she looked up to see what could be blocking the beautiful fish’s reflection. As she looked up, she smiled. Chang was leaning over the wall of the bridge, watching her.
“Hello Kwang Se. Do the fish talk back to you when you talk to them?” He teased her and stood up straight.
She stood up straight and walked to the foot of the bridge.


“No, they do not, but if they did, I imagine they would be great conversationalists. Telling me what it is like to swim everywhere they wanted to go, as they pleased, with no one to tell them what they had to do.” Kwang Se, sadly looked toward the Palace. “Do you bring news for my father?”
“Yes,” Chang said solemnly “ I am afraid the news is not good. I was told to hurry, but I could not make my feet rush. My emperor is not willing to bend and your father is not willing to give.”
“My father is a stubborn and willful man.” Kwang Se said quietly. “It seems to serve only himself, and no one else.”
“For that, I am truly sorry, Kwang Se, you deserve much better” Chang looked to the palace. “I was hoping to hear your flute again. I hear it as I fall asleep. I dream of the day I will hear it again.”
“Maybe next time you come. There will be a next time?” Kwang Se asked, half hopeful, half afraid. She was shameful for being so forward about with this boy, but her heart seemed strangely attached to him.


Cassandra stood up as she heard her father’s voice. He was opening the door for their group. They all came out laughing and talking at once. No one seemed to notice that Cassandra had not walked out with them, so she just joined with them and walked to the family car.
“Thank you for picking me up today.” Cassandra said quietly, as her father’s secretary waved goodbye. She winked at Cassandra and took off to where she had parked her car.
They got into the car and for once, the family was quiet. Cassandra knew there would be no questions about her game. She’d grown accustomed to that, and today, she was relieved. Reporting on such a dismal show, would not have been pleasant. It would have given them proof she didn’t need to be competing.
They had driven about half way home and Camille spoke up.
“Dad, did I do ok?” Her voice sounded remarkably timid. Was Camille the Perfect actually asking for approval? Didn’t she know that she automatically had the seal of approval for everything she did? Cassandra was a bit surprised by Camille’s timidity.
“Yes, you did just fine.” That was it. No critique, no criticism. Just a pointed “fine.” It was far more approval than Cassandra ever got, but Cassandra was starting to see that her father didn’t give approval to anyone, not even Camille, without some begging on the part of the person who was looking for it.
They pulled into the driveway, and Cassandra went to her bedroom. She changed into her pajama’s and climbed onto her bed. She took the Blue Willow tea cup from the window.
“If only.” She placed it back in the window, wishing she could just go to the garden herself. How wonderful it would be to be able to talk to Kwang Se.

various

My nano novel is coming along fine. By today's quota, I should be at 15,003 words. Today, I'm at 17,726 words.

Willow’s Bridge
By Peggikaye Eagler

Cassandra starred at the cup, she would keep it there, in her window sill, a reminder that one day she would find the beautiful place she longed to be. Her parents’ conversation in the next room could be heard through the vents. They weren’t even trying to talk in hushed tones, so as not to be overheard. Her face burned in embarrassment. Her heart sunk in despair. Once again, her father was finding fault, and her mother was failing to rise to her defense. Would she ever be able to meet expectations?

That's how my story starts ... I have found the subplot easier to write than the plot itself. I think, because my main character has an eating disorder, it probably makes it a little more personal. Difficult even.

Speaking of which. My therapist comes back Tuesday. YEAH!! It's been a long 6 weeks that she has been out. I'm just glad she's back. She did not think she'd eve be out a full month. She said 4 weeks at the outset. I'm personally, surprised that it's only 6 weeks. Major surgery, not exactly young, and rheumatoid arthritis ... not exactly easy to bounce back. Regardless of how tough you consider yourself.

Good timing, I've decided that I need to discuss my new psychiatrist with her. I thought I liked her. My last visit, left me, eh ...unnerved.
She made a comment that had me a bit alarmed at the time, and the more I thought about it, the more alarmed I became as I realized ... SHE THINKS I'M LAZY!!!!!
Her exact words were
"Even with a chronic illness, you have to have a regular schedule, you can't just lie around all day. Hasn't anyone ever told you that?"

My answer? NO

The reason...
They're all trying to get me to LAY DOWN AND TAKE IT EASY!!!!!!!!!!!!

The farther out I get, the more miffed I get.
There were a few other comments that left me a bit ...um ... uncomfortable. A hint that I might be abusing my pain relief medications and sleep aids ...

yeah, ok ..whatever. I get a script for anxiety.
My former psych spent 3 years trying to talk me into accepting a script for it. He finally convinced me in February. The agreement, was with my nighmares and panic attacks and the severity of my eating disorder, I'd take them regularly, until otherwise noted. When Don went into the hospital, I kind of complied. Sort of. Kind of. Not really.

I have a monthly supply, I've had a total of 3 scripts filled (including, the first one) since he first prescribed them. 1 and 2 refills. Yet, I'm supposed to be taking them regularly. That's 9 months ... and 3 fills. Yep, I'm abusing them.

My pain medicines ... I have a monthly supply of those as well. I have filled those 3 times this calendar year ...
yep ... I'm so over doing those.

The reality is I take FAR less than prescribed and what I'm what is Rx'd on a regular basis, I'm taking on an as needed when I just can't take it anymore basis. Am I afraid of addiction ... YOU BETCHA!

Am I abusing my medications, I don't hardly think so. Unless you consider not using them when I should, abuse.

Maybe allowing pain when I have the means to not be in pain is abuse?

Blogaversary

I started to sit down to write on my Nano Novel and realized I still needed to write my blogaversary post.

My mind wavered between the two ..and I went and took a nap. Nothing like procrastinating one writing for another!

Today, is my third anniversary of blogging!

My dear friend Deneice talked me into blogging.


In the 3 years that I've been blogging, I've had the chance to 'meet' several special people. It amazes me, how much you come to know about someone else's life through blogging. It hit my blogfriend Moof as well this week. I'll let you read about it there. She words it much better than I ever could. Moofie and I, just about share a blogaversary. Hers is November 1, mine the 3rd. I know when she has hers, I need to get on my toes and get ready to post my blogaversary post. It's nice to have her keep watch for me. ;)

Like her, I've talked on the phone to many of my blog friends. Some of them occassionally ...some of them more frequently. (hmm one of them I'm supposed to talk to this evening!)

The most important time .. when Don was in the hospital this summer. I shot off a quick email to Moof, and she notified our corner of the blog world.
Calls and prayers immediately were wrapped around me. Never, for one moment did I ever feel alone in the battle for my husband's life. You all will never know just how much your support meant to me.
I wish I could mention all of those who offered support during that time

I started to ...but I'll leave someone out ... and that would be wrong.

Over the last 3 years ...

I've shared about my kids and their progress.
My husband and our struggles ..and our triumphs.
I've shared our journey to get a Habitat House ... and moving in ... those who've read this blog for a while ...do you realize, that we finished the house this weekend ...a year ago!
I've shared about my heartbreak with my stepfather.
My worries over my mom as she ages.
My book being published.
My being ready to take my kids to the nearest bording school. *grin*
My being so proud of my kids I could burst.
I've talked about my cats. Over and over again.

I've shared about surgeries and illnesses ... I've answered questions about myasthenia gravis and lupus ... and tourette's syndrome and ocd.
I have shared about my eating disorder, both in good times, and in relapse.

But most of all, I had the privilege of sharing my faith. For that, I am forever grateful.

I have been encouraged when I have been discouraged and rejoiced with when I am rejoicing.

So, for those of you who read this blog and comment ..thank you.
Those who read this blog ... thank you.
Those who happen along this blog ... I hope you come back.

For all of you ..thank you for the privilege of being able to share a little of my heart.

Now off to Nanowriting!

Counting down

Oh my goodnes gracious sakes alive ....

It is 3:22 pm ... and at midnight (assuming I'm still up) I can start work on Willow's Bridge.

Rephrase that ... I can start WRITING Willow's Bridge.

I've already put some work into it before hand. Character development ...and getting idea's down on paper.

There is so much I'd forgotten about writing fiction! You know, I'd even forgotten the terms protagonist and antagonist! Yikes!

It is amazing how the characters seem to come alive in you. I've heard about that before from other writers and always thought it was kind of strange. But, it happens. I guess, it's a good thing that it's a good thing that it's happening.

I'm so ready to go, midnight seems like a long way away ... I guess it's a good thing our church has an All Saints Party tonight!

I get to judge little people in costumes!!!

Pamper me

It seems, that somehow, I've been won ..given ..something a "Pamper Me" day from Mary Kay Cosmetics

I am so excited about treating you to a much deserved pampering!



What we will be doing is learning about skin care, doing a little glamour, and talking about your specific skin care needs, plus we’ll have some tasty muffins, coffee, and juice.

YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ANNOUNCING!!!

NaNoWriMo Madness

Ok ... I've started a new blog with the intention of being a group blog like Bloggers Anonymous. It's for those who are participating in NaNoWriMo (or those who would like to cheer us on)! If you would like to participate ... please send me your email address (pearlsofaneagle@aol.com) and I will get you hooked up!!

I joined the NaNoWriMe site, and I love the site, but it is PAINFULLY slow!!! I've already met a couple of wonderful people there ... but would also like to keep the support of my already supporters! Tk ... Dr. Dino ..Ms Moofie etc.

I've posted a couple of posts ... already because my fingers are itchy!!

Pleaseeeeeeeeeeeee join me!

A week to go

A week to go, and my story will start to be written down. I thought I would tell my background of the reason I have the story to tell.

When I was young, nine to be exact. I was given a Blue Willow China Miniature Tea Set

Not only similar to this one, but EXACTLY like this one. My hands can still feel the smooth shape of the creamer pitcher as I'd run my fingers around it's lips.

I was given it by my step mother for my 9th birthday. It wasn't just any Blue Willow set. It had been hers ... and she didn't have a daughter of her own to give it to. So, it was her honor to give it to me. She could have picked my older sister, but she chose me. It had been given to her for her 9th birthday, and to her mom for her 9th birthday ... it was a family tradition and I was being pulled into the family, not by blood, but by honor.

She had me read the legend of the blue willow ... 2 young lovers ... a cruel mean father who vowed to keep them apart. Her husband was from an enemy country, and he was tyrannical at best ... The beauty of the land they lived in was lost on her father. All he cared about was power ...and being right. She loved this young man... and she married him against her father's will.
Because she did, he vowed to kill them both. They hid for a while in the shed behind the willow tree. When he found them, they fled across the bridge

All blue willow china has the shed, the willow tree, and the bridge with the three figures running across the bridge.

When the 2 lovers get across the bridge, They are turned into doves or love birds (depending on who tells the legend) forever, to be kept together ...safe, and out of the reach of the tyranical father ... flying above the problems of the world, in the beauty of the garden she loved so much ...



So, as a 9 year old girl, I fell in love with the story for obvious reasons. The dreamer in me, found the story irresistable.

However, what was also in me, was a tomboy that was not to be reckoned with.

Fragile, china, and tomboys ...just really ...aren't a good idea. The ideal situation would have been to give it to me, and put it away till I was old enough, responsible enough to understand the words "antique"; "legacy" & "heritage".

Instead, a gift was a gift ...and they gave it to me ...this child who played as hard as she loved ... and well ... the china did not survive. It quickly became my most beloved possession ... but ...it also didn't survive from my birthday a few days before Thanksgiving, until Christmas.

I found far more uses for the china than sitting mildly with my dolls (who's uses had far more uses than sitting mildly with the tea set) having tea parties. China, simply won't survive such play.

Not a single piece, save the lid to the tea pot survived ..and I lost that before my 10th birthday.

To say, my regrets over this are huge, is putting it mildly. I love the story of the blue willow, I love the pattern. I can get lost in the pattern, the story ... and the idea of running across the bridge to safety ... has become the theme of my Nano novel. So ... Willow's Bridge will be the name of the novel ... a story to tell that's deep in me.

Saftey is something I've been looking for since I was a child ... and it's something I'm longing to find ... I've found bits of it, maybe in the shed ... but I'm looking for permanent safety ... like the birds in the beauty of the garden ... so ... I will run across Willow's Bridge ... and write the story that's in me to tell ...

and we'll see what happens in the month of November ... 34 years after I broke the Blue willow China set ...

10 - 20 - 30

I have been tagged. I knew it was a matter of time. Jeff tagged Deneice, and I didn't tell her, because I knew she'd tag me. However, I did start thinking of what I was going to say when I saw that Jeff tagged her. BUT ....there were a couple of bloggers whom I consider myself lucky to have not been tagged by this a few weeks ago ...so ... I got a few weeks to actually contemplate this before it got to me.

The tag is what I was doing 10 - 20 and 30 years ago.

So ...

1997
My son had just turned 8 years old, and my other son was 5, almost 6. We'd just found our new church, Southpark Community Church and I knew it was home. My husband, had refused to go to church since Samuel was a year old. I'd made the decision to go to Southpark, regardless. When he got ready to come to church, he'd have to go where I was at home. I could no longer attend and be homeless ready to go to a church when he was ready to attend. I had to put down roots.

Little did I know the spiritual battle that would take place in my home with that declaration ... or the victory that it would lead to. As well, as my husband's attendance at church and his taking the spiritual lead in our home.

Benjamin, 5, was still diagnosed as autistic, and on a good day, if you had a Jar Jar Binx translation book, you might be able to carry on a conversation with him. The microwave was a refridgerator and the washing machine was a car and the car was a fence and well ... you just had to get used to what he called things. He had reasonings why he labeled things the way he did, and if you talked to him long enough, you could figure it out.
One day, he came in and asked for something to "ocean me over"
I was baffled.
"I need something to OCEAN ME OVER!"
"Benjamin, I don't understand"
"GIVE ME SOMETHING TO OCEAN ME OVER!"
"Show me what you mean"
He marched into the kitchen, grabbed a box of crackers and said emphatically "OCEAN ME OVER!
(TIDE me over ...oooooooooooh ocean ...tide ... I GET IT! )
The conversation took a bit longer with quite a bit more frustration on his part ..for one thing, he had to get to pronounce ocean to where I could understand it.

Benjamin could not eat very many foods without throwing up. Smells were a constant problem. His stomach was so sensitive it was a constant worry. He was allergic to dairy and we had to be very careful of the foods that passed his mouth or he'd break out in a terrible rash.

Samuel, being almost 8, already having read Jurrasic Park, and was being homeschooled and was leaps and bounds ahead of where any child had a right to be at 8. He was a tremendous help with Benjamin and did nothing to help dissuade Benjamin of concepts like ... ocean/tide ... and Benjamin followed Samuel everywhere.

We were taking Benjamin to occupational therapy 2 times a week and speech therapy once a week, physical therapy every other week. We had not yet, at that time, discovered Therapy Works ... where the sensory integration therapy would enter our lives. That ...changed Benjamin's life ..and diagnosis. It changed our lives ... and the path our family took.

I type this out, and remember how hard it was ... he ran away ...into the street, his impulse control was so minimal. His learning so far behind.

Both boys were still immunodeficient and infections were frequent.

The myasthenia gravis was very out of control ... I could not walk up a flight of stairs. My last myasthenic crisis had just taken place. Labor Day weekend 1997. I wore leg braces (AFO's) because my hyper extention of my knee and foot drop combined with the MG made it very difficult to walk and the pain level increased.

I remember it being difficult ... I remember being desperate for respite care and not finding it. Being on a state wide 'waiting list' (which, we managed to get to the top of the list when Benjamin was 12 years old ... the child had to be younger than 11 years 11 months old to get services from it)

But when I think back on those times, I remember his smile, his laughter, and his waddle that made me laugh. I only remember how HARD it was when I write stuff like this. I only think of how sick I was when my doctor's start to talk about changing my medications around and the possiblity of going back to that condition ...


The reality is ... the day to day was hard ... but the era in my life, wasn't that bad.

1987

I was engaged to be married. Wow ...20 years ago. I was working at a fast food hot dog stand, managing it. Yikes.
I'd been married and divorced ... and was getting ready to get married again.
My life in front of me ... I was healthy, and strong ... and I had no idea what was in front of me.

1977
I was in the 7th grade ... living at my fathers. The only year I would live with my Dad. He left my mom the day he found out that she was pregnant with me. I went to live with him after a trauma when I was in the 6th grade that I never told my mom or step father about.

I thought, living with him would get me into a 'safe' place, but it put me square into the place of rejection and judgement. Dad hadn't wanted me from the start. The fact that I was less than acceptable was made abundantly clear throughout the year. My step mother, did a lot to try to make up for that. But, she also did a lot to try to get me to live up to my father's expectations. Which, just fed into the 'you're not good enough' mentality.

I'd grown up with my parents (my real dad and my real mom) both being special education teachers. My sister, had this knack for telling me that I belonged in my mom's class. She'd talked the kids at school into teasing me along those lines.

I believed them.

In moving to my Dad's, I had a new set of friends who had no clue about the teasing, the bullying or even had a clue who my sister was.

I was on new ground. Clean slate. New teacher's who had never had my nice, quiet, willing to please anyone that crossed her path ... sister ... and well ... suddenly ... I wasn't the clumsy, dumb, irritating Peggi anymore.

I was recommended by my math teacher to be tested for the gifted program ...and shock of all shocks to me ... got in. In California in 1977 it was a state wide program called (oh my goodness ... BRACE YOURSELVES ...this is terrible labeling!)

Mentally Gifted Minors ... or MGM

The fact that I could step foot from what I considered myself to be ready for the MR program into the MGM class was beyond me. But ... they thought I could. I did. What was even more shocking ... I found I fit in ..quite nicely. Everyone in there talked like I did. Acted like I did ... played like I did and read the same books I did and managed to get into the same kind of trouble I did!! WOW ... a whole classroom full of alien Peggi's!! *blink*

The highlight of the year was going to see the King Tut Exhibit in LA.

The Lowlight of the year ... having to watch Tale Tale Heart in *BOTH* MGM and Language Arts in the same week ...because it managed to get caught up in 2 different programs! I still haven't gotten over that one! I bought the DVD for my son last summer, but told him he's not allowed to watch it with me around!!!
*shudder* (bought him the original, the one I was forced to watch)

The beginnings of my eating disorder can be seen in this year, although, it didn't really start until after my step father died in 1979. But, living this year with my dad ... telling me I was fat ...and unacceptable ..and yes, he used those words ... did much to lay the ground work for the eating disorder. Being told that I was 'unforgiveable' for wishing I could have more than a half of a peanut butter and honey sandwich and half an apple and 1 fig newton for lunch ... while my brother had a whole bologna sandwhich, chips, apple and 3 cookies ... kind of got me on track for thinking about 'right foods' & 'wrong foods' and portion sizes.

The odd thing was ... my brother hated bologna ..and I HATED peanut butter ... why they did this, we still have no idea.

When I moved back in with my mom at the end of the school year, the doctor told my mom I was 10 lbs underweight ... a forced diet at 13 will do that to a girl.

I can still tell you what we had to eat most nights of the week that year ..and for breakfast it was one soft boiled egg, for me, a slice of toast and a glass of orange juice. My juice, was measured.

The year, was ... to put it mildly, paradoxical ... great successes both academically and socially at school. Home life ... was less than to be desired.

Funny ... Paradoxical seems to be a good word to describe my life in general.

So, on to the tagging ...
I'm going to tag DP (you know who you are) Random Grace, Three's a Crowd (a friend of mine from Church) Chris at Normal Chaos and Ms Raine!

Whoops! Now I've done it!

Dear PearlsAndDreams,Well, you did it. You've gone and pledged your November to the pursuit of the month-long novel. Whether this is your first or ninth NaNoWriMo, we know you're going to have a great time, and we're thrilled to have you writing with us.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The question is ...can I write fiction????? oh brother!

I have a story at heart ... a story that is aching to be told. It comes out of a something that happened for real in my life ...

When I saw Collecting Cats desire to do hers on a Korean Wedding Vase ... She pushed me over the edge of cooperating this year ... I knew that I too must attempt this feat of writing this novel. I've had this story in my heart for a while now. It's not about a Korean china ...but rather Chinese China ... Blue Willow Legendary China
and an american girl of dreams ...



Even the Chinese copied it in their hand-painted decoration. Perhaps Minton's design was influenced by the legends that still surround Blue Willow today. One thing is certain. For two hundred years, children from all over the world have been coaxed into eating their vegetables, by mothers promising to tell them a story-that of a pair of hopeless young lovers turned into birds so they might remain happy together throughout eternity.

"So she tells me a legend centuries old

Of a Mandarin rich in lands and gold,

Of Koong-Shee fair and Chang the good,

Who loved each other as lovers should.

How they hid in the gardener's hut awhile,

Then fled away to the beautiful isle.

Though a cruel father pursued them there,

And would have killed the hopeless pair,

But kindly power, by pity stirred,

Changed each into a beautiful bird.

.....

Here is the orange tree where they talked,

Here they are running away,

And over all at the top you see,

The birds making love alway(s)."

Willow Ware is available in a wide range of patterns, makers-most identifiable by mark, styles, and periods-running from 1780 to wares produced today. Later pieces should only be purchased in excellent condition. Old Blue Willow is a prudent investment today as it is scoffed at by many dealers unaware of its important place in history

I looked for just the right font for this, I could not find one. Blogger, gives is very few choices. these days. So, I guess, I can plug in some webdings and color to give my post some flavor ... if I so choose. I wish I could warn you about what is about to come out of my fingers. But I must warn you: It is 3:30 on Friday morning ... and on Sunday Morning, my little baby boy, the one who so charmly held his hands on his hips at one year and said "DON'T YOU DO THAT! " to a nurse who was going to give him a breathing treatment .... and the same sweet sweet boy, who stood up, and stook out his hand to say "Nice to meet you" to the ER doctor who had treated him for being very very ill and saved us yet another hospital visit. We'd spend the whole day in that ER, going through IVbags, and IV antibiotics .... trying to keep a just barely 2 year old to understand "yes, they are acting like the hospital, not "checkers" like the ER ...but they want to keep you out of the Hosiptal if they can." After 13 hours .... The doctor came back ...blood levels had stableized ... a nurse would come and draw blood in the middle of the night, and to listen to his breathing, run one bag of fluids. If all was stable, he'd be ok, and would not need hospitallization. They were fighting to keep this kid with the bad ear and the bronchitis off the floor, even though he EAAAAAZily met criteria ... but they had pneumonia, RSV, and an unknown skin virus that seems to be spreading from room to room. (years later, they now call that an \MSRA investion) We won, we and patient doctor's ... won.
So, we're getting ready to leave, Samuel, is just over 2, his mom is pregnant and about to pop at any given sneeze in the wrong way (wasn't going to be that easy ...he was late too ...and had to be incudeced as well ...stubborn boys!) And he just stood up straight and tall, miliatry style, poked out his hand and said "it was nice you could meet me today"

WE ROLLED. Poor kid had no idea what he'd really said ...but we all knew what he'd meant. He made, the doctor's day! Holiday weekned too, I'm sure. WE always thought he didn't understand his slip. Now? We really have to question it.

My son. Samuel Dwayne Eagler, Born October 14, 1989 to a set of parents who were too medically fragile to have kids .. had the genetic stack of cards ...stacked against him. Joint problems, cholesterol, autoimmunnity comes from both mom's side (paternally) and Dad's side: He has a mother with Myasthenia Gravis and Lupus and fibromyalgia,an aunt with Rheumatoid Arthritis and Fibromiyalgia, and an uncle with Multiple Sclerosis. His Grandfather has Glocucoma and Psoriasis. His Grandmother has Celeiac Diesease. There may be more that we're missing that we may not even be aware about.

But. he just goes on about life ... life, is what you make of it. Life hasn't rolled him the best ball ... but he's learned how to pick up that ball ... and either make you think it's a funny clowns face ... and made you laugh with it ... or, he's developed a really fun and engaging game, and gotten you to go along with his schemes ... Or, he's turned it into an object lesson he can teach about.

His caring for thers, seems to know no boundries ... even when proven that someone might be harming him, not have their best intersests at heart ... they always ... always have the last chance. We've tried to tell him that there has to come day when that rope must be cut ...and his response is "Jesus, would never cut that rope," ouch!

I think, my biggest admiration for him comes in handling his own personal 'challenges'. Which, he does not see ... in any way, shape, or form, as challenges. He sees these ... what are called in the medical and psychiatric fields as 'disorders' ... as ...how shall I put this ... an emphasis on his personality? He has both Tourette's Syndrome and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. The OCD will get to him long before the Tourette's. The TS, will never ever get to him. However, he uses the OCD to his advantage whenever he can possibly figure out a way to do so. (ok, so why can he not use it to MY advantage and get the neatnick part of it to clean my house and do his chores 'just so' ...huh? huh? huh? ...leave it to me to get an OCDer that doesn't care about neatness! horder/clutterbug ...hmph!)

His OCD enables him to make sure that he knows what he needs to know for school, to pass his classes, to make sure that his scores on the ACT & SAT are going to be top notch, and scholarship range. He uses it, to remember things about his friends, the things most friends forget ... birthdays, first days at work, work reviews, big tests ... and he calls the friend to check on them ... just the little things in life ..that when someone thinks of us, we feel loved and cared for ....

When he was first diagnosed with the Tourette's Syndrome, he was in the 5th grade. It was one of the years we didn't homeschool when he was younger. He had a teacher, who didn't get it. So, I'd had some on line friends write some letters about how their children's tourette's effected them in the classroom. I let him read the letters. As he did, he saw himself in those letters. After reading several of them ... he looked up with this big grin on his face and declared "I'm NORMAL in my Abnormalities!"

That, has been his life theme statement. I have these things in my life that society declares 'not normal' .... it's not normal to obsess on saying something 10 times till it sound 'right' ... it's not "normal" to walk around 'yelping' ...or saying "ayeb, OH MY, fish noise" (his current tic) it's not normal to have to walk only on the right side of the sidewalk and touch every portrution that sticks out of the walls ... and if you don't, turn around and start again (HAVE TO TOUCH) it's not normal to jerk your head back and swing it forward and back again. It's not normal to jerk your elbow out to the side.

It's just not normal ...unless ... you have OCD and Tourette's ... then, it's perfectly normal ...because that's what a person with OCD and Tourette's do ... so, he's normal in his abnormalities.

He's never had a bit of self esteem issues since he learned what the disorders are, and that for what he has, he's perfectly normal.

He's met a few people with SEVERE forms of the disorders, they've been in our church ... and they've been rejected ... and I heard him on the phone one afternoon ... calling every single youth group member ... explaining ... you know, you've been around it for years with my brother and I. It's not his fault. This, is what it is. He fought long and hard to bring acceptance for these other children. He had some sucess too ... his method ...education and kindness and example, with vunerability.

Some kids don't like him, some just don't find him funny. Some, need to hang around with kids who have the kind of money they have to go do things with ... having a kid who can just hang around a coffee shop or park or at home, isn't their cup of tea. It's different than when I
was a kid. Many of us had no spending money ...
ever ...so it was the majority that didn't have money to spend, not the miniority.

But I think, the lessons he's learning ... will keep him conscience of what God is doing for him, and through him as he enters this world we call adulthood.! happy Birthday Samuel.
I admire my son. I like who he is. If he were not my son, I would like to think, he'd let me be his friend. Happy Birthday Samuel.

What's In a Name

Miss Moofie did a meme about her middle name the other day. I cracked a joke about being glad that she didn't tag me. She then commented that she didn't know my middle name, to which, I responded that, I did not either.
So, after thinking about it for a day or so, I've decided that my name might make an interesting blog entry. It certainly has caused enough *interesting* situations in my life. If Moof thinks her middle name is complicated, she will be grateful for it by the time she is done reading this. *grin*

I was born, in Harbor City, California. My mom, was alone, because my father had left her when she was 3 months pregnant. He left her the day she told him that she was pregnant. She had a sister named Peggy, and aunt Peggy and my Dad had an Aunt Peggy. The name Peggy ... was a family tradition. However, there was far more to the name Peggy being a family tradition than met the eye. (none of those Peggy's, by the way, liked the name, nor thought it should be a family tradition ...)

Peggy, was NOT the legal name of any of those Peggy's. Peggy ... was a nickname. An Irish nickname. How that nickname came to be ... no one is really sure ... but the real name is Margaret. To me, Peggy coming from Margaret makes as much sense as Jack being the nickname for John. But, that is neither here nor there ...or maybe it is ...but ...

So, November 21, 1964, Janet Mills had a little girl, and on the birth certificate, went the first name of Margaret. There had to be a middle name to distinguish her from the numerous other Margaret's in the family, so she named her after her favorite cousin in Portland ... Joyce Kathleen. So, the name on the birth certificate became Margaret Kathleen. The name that Margaret Kathleen was IMMEDIATELY called, was, by family tradition ... was Peggi ...

But, there were soooooooo many Peggy's in the family .... you can't have baby Peggi confused with Aunt Peggy and Aunt Peggy ... so ... what to call her to make it clear that she's not Aunt Peggy or Aunt Peggy Ann? (Peggy Ann is my mom's sister, Aunt Peggy, my father's aunt.) ....oh! Let's nickname the Kathleen as well!!!!!!!! Peggi Kaye ... well ... that would look much better, more unique as one word ... thus and so, Peggikaye was nicknamed ... at about 2 hours old.

The birth certificate would say Margaret Kathleen, the name would be Peggikaye. Forever to be called, Peggikaye ...by family members ... in California ...where double names are not common.

In kindergarten ... kids referred to her as Piggikaye ... or Piggi ... well, Peggikaye did not like that ...at all. Thankfully, the muppets were not around yet ...so Miss Piggi did not come up. But ... it was bad enough. So, when we moved to a new community, Peggikaye chose to go by Margaret at school. Which, she soon found out, she dispised. She'd asked to go by Kathleen, but she was told no one used their middle names. *blink*

The name gets far more complicated ... at this point ... her name is
Margaret Kathleen Peggikaye Mills. ...eh, some kids have it worse ... no big deal.

But ... This girl is going to school where her mom is teaching. Peggikaye's mom is remarried to Harold Pearson (she married him when Peggikaye was 13 months old.) People start to call her mom Mrs. Mills. That, really bothers Mrs. Pearson ... a lot ... A LOT. Mr. Mills really wounded Mrs. Pearson ...and she doesn't want to be identified as Mrs. Mills anymore. The daughters, who adore their step father, and see him as their father, have no problem taking on his last name for convienience sake.
So ...Margaret Kathleen Peggikaye Mills ... becomes

Margaret Kathleen Peggikaye Mills Pearson ...

So ... in some situations ... she's Margaret Kathleen Pearson ...or Peggikaye Pearson ... or Margaret Mills ...or Peggikaye Mills ...or Peggi Mills ...or Peggi Pearson ...just depending on what the situation is and what the legal implication is ...and what home she happens to be staying at (always Mills at Dad's house, Pearson at mom's house ...except at a doctor's appointment .... )

Are you with me?

So, then ... Peggikaye Pearson ...or Peggikaye Mills, whichever you want to think of her as ... grows up ...and gets married ...adding another name to the mix ... Rendon ...

Margaret Kathleen Peggikaye Mills Pearson Rendon.

She then promptly gets divorced. When she does, she decides to drop the Margaret ...the Peggikaye ...and finally use the Kathleen ....

and for a short time manages to be Kathleen Rendon.

No one in her circle of friends is able to make the transition, much to her dismay. Back to Peggikaye.

So, A couple of years later, she gets married again, adding yet another name to the mix ... Eagler

So ... her full legal name when she has to deal with the social security administration is

Margaret Kathleen Peggikaye Mills Pearson Rendon Eagler

You should see the faces of the people in the office ...as any combination of those names have been used in legal situations in my life

Who is Margaret Mills
me
Who is Peggikaye Pearson
me
Who is Peggi Mills
me
Who is Kathleen Rendon
me
Who is Margaret Rendon (I got a ticket while married)
me
Who is Peggi Rendon
me
Who is Peggikaye Eagler
me
Who is Margaret Kathleen Eagler
who? oh ..me

So ..what is my middle name ... I have NO EARTHLY IDEA!!

What Was She Thinking?

In July, when Don came home from the hospital, we had home health care from the hospital's home health care agency.

The hospital was more than accomodating. The transition from an incredibly long, overwhelming hospital stay ...45 days ... to coming home was harder than I'd ever guessed it could have been. The agency seemed to understand that the adjustment was not going to be the piece of cake I expected it to be. I was so glad he was coming home! How could it be difficult?

He came home on a Friday or Saturday ... I don't remember now ... and on Saturday, the assessment was done. Monday,July 9th, the nurse assigned to his care came to our house. Professional, knowlegable, friendly and experienced ... we felt very comfortable .. even relieved with her being in charge of Don's care.

She'd been with the hospital's home health care for a number of years, and with the hospital for even longer ...a nurse for over 20. Most of those 20 years spent at this hospital. Her knowledge of Post polio syndrome and respiratory issues, especially regarding scoliosis was amazing. We didn't know if she'd studied up on it just to care for Don, or if she'd had experience with it before. It didn't matter. She knew how to care for Don ...and that was what was important.

She was supposed to come by Wednesday morning, and we didn't hear from her. Don, Wednesday afternoon, at 3:15, feeling caged in, after his long stay in the hospital, had his son take him to the coffee shop 2 blocks away. He'd be close enough to come home when she called to come over. She never called. We went to church that night, leaving Don home alone ... he thought he was doing well enough to be alone, but he started having trouble breathing ... and I had to leave church to come home and be with him. We started to talk about how we wished the nurse had came by like we thought we was scheduled to. We didn't know if his breathing troubles was expected or not.

We figured we mis understood ... maybe she'd come by on Thursday.

Friday Morning ... we hadn't heard from anyone in the home health agency ...not the nurse, not the PT, not the OT ... and by 11 I called the agency ... the supervisor called me right back. Very confused.

"are you sure?"
.... well, yeah ... I'm very sure ...
"well, the nurse said she saw Donald on Wednesday, but you weren't there, he was there alone."

Um mmm ... um ... no ma'am ... I was here all day.

"uh, let me call you back."

She called me back and asked permission to come out to the house.

She then showed us the file ... the nurses 'notes' of having been to our house from 3:30 to 3:55 ... complete with vital statistics ... and Don's signature ... only, it doesn't even remotely resemble Don's signature. Doesn't match their other signatures for Don either ... it does however, look like the nurse's handwriting.

Not only that, but we have the credit card reciept for 3:59 at the coffee shop... with Don's real signature ... for where he really was.

She didn't come by ...and she falsified records ...and she forged Don's signature.

Why in the world would a nurse for over 20 years ... completely falsify records ... why would she lie? Why would she say she'd seen him without the family present? Why would she forge his signature? Did she think that he was so incoherant that he wouldn't know the difference?

Does she realize the risk she put him at? It was really scary at the time to realize how much trouble breathing he had that night and we didn't know what we were to do about it ...and all we could think about was "I wish the nurse had come by"

It turned out ok ...and Don is only using oxygen occassionally, plus his bipap at night. He's walking with a cane ... still not driving. Still not able to open a can or jar ... still can't button his own jeans ... but he's doing well.

But today, I got a call from an investigator with the nursing board ... asking us to sign an afidavidt regarding the situation. We will. (she was very thrilled we were willing to cooperate) She said she couldn't go much into detail other than to say that there would likely be no plea bargaining, whatever that means)

It is a shame ... 20 year career ...just to avoid spending 30 minutes doing your job ... What a risk she put my husband at. I am friends ...both in real life and in the blog world with many medical professionals, and I can't imagine any of them risking their licence or career for this. I feel sorry for them when I think of this woman ... how many times they have to go the extra mile ... because of people like her ...

What was she thinking?

It's going to be an interesting ride.
I finally decide that it's time to get down to the business of therapy ... and ... my therapy team ... seems to dissapate on me. Dr. M leaves to go to another clinic, with the intention of me following him, but the insurance doesn't work out. The same day I find out I won't be following him, I find out that my therapist will be taking an emergency medical leave. She was supposed to have taken off right then for 6 weeks, however they had to work a few things out, and I saw her a couple more times. Her leave starts now. It will be 6 weeks starting now.

Could be interesting timing. We had a problem with social security ... they messed up, and my disability managed to get cancelled ... we are trying to get it fixed, should get fixed, but who knows how long it may get to fix. Hopefully quickly, our income has dropped to $495 for the month of October (for a family of 4!) um ..er ..uh ... yikes! What I don't know is ... does this mean my MEDICAL coverage has stopped as well? Or does the medicare/medicaid continue as well? I'm up a creek if that stopped when the social security disability stopped. The doctor appointments not being able to be kept is one thing .. not being able to get my rx's filled ...that ... is a whole 'nother kettle of fish!

What was frustrating, was calling Social Security and having them say "yes, we show that you called to say that you never got the forms, and that we didn't send them, but we still cancelled you because you didn't send them back into us." SAY WHAT? AND since when do you notify someone AFTER you've cancelled them????

My oh my.

Therapywise ... L, keeps saying that I'm disassociating during therapy. I'm not really sure what she means by that. This last time, she said that I did it more than normal. I know that I 'freeze' and don't know how to answer what she wants me to answer ... I get kind of numb. I guess I'll have to talk to her about that when she comes back. But, I'm aware of what is going on in the room ... I'm there ... I'm just 'stuck' and unable to respond, overwhelmed by what she's talking about or wants from me.

Her assignment while she's gone is for me to figure out what comfort is ... and how to be comforted.

Tagged by a theif!

PK, you had asked to play the interview thingy on my blog, so here goes:

1. What is one possession that you would hate to do without? The one possession I have the most trouble doing without would be my pen and paper. I could write down as many scriptures as I could remember, and those around me could remember ... so we could come up with our own Bible, but I'd also be able to write my heart to God, letters to others ... my ability to put into words what God is speaking to me into the written word would be lost if I could not do that.
2. What is one scripture you have trouble with, and why? Eat. There are many of them, that refer to eating, as a command, not a casual reference, but a command. Eating is an intrigral part of the celebrations of Christianity ... celebrations, not just survival. Food, it seems, is representative of more than just survival, but representative of the life that God has for us in His life and existance in heaven. Having had an eating disorder ... discovering that FOOD is really an intregral part of spirituality was an overwhelming part is kind of ... quite ... um ... overwhelming.
3. Where is one place you'd prefer to never return to? Pueblo, Colorado, except to see my fathers grave.
4. What is one thing you'd do differently if you had high school to do over again? I would take algebra and actually go on the medical school track.
5. If you were given $1000 that you had to spend on something for yourself, what would you use that money for? I would take a day at a spa, spoiling myself, being comforted in a way I'm not used to being comforted. Learning that it's ok to be comforted, to be comfortable. To be safe.

Those are my answers and here are the rules if you want to play too:1. If you are interested in being interviewed, leave me a comment saying "Interview me."
2. I will respond by posting five questions for you. I get to pick the questions.

3. You will update your blog with a post containing your answers to the questions.

4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.

5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions

Dream home

Your home is a Athletic Magnate's Villa Your kitchen is actually a GNC franchise, though all you really need are your Power Bars and Red Bulls. There's a Chocolatessen, which is rapidly becoming your favorite room of the house. Having one is also becoming a trend among your wealthy neighbors. Your master bedroom has an on-call masseuse and sports therapist. Your study has current issues of Sports News & Sports Illustrated, marked with a highlighter for better preparing your fantasy sports league. One of your garages houses your Hummer, and others contain your H2, and H3... with room for an H4, if they ever invent one. Your home also includes a guest wing and private quarters for your servants. Your guests enjoy your home theater with 37 different sports channels. Outside is your hedge maze and gardens, meticulously tended by a team of world-class botanists. And, you have a pet -- a doberman pincer named "Warren". Below is a snippet of the blueprints:

Build YOUR Dream Home!

God of Wonders by Third Day

"Darling, wake up!"

I woke slowly up and saw my Daddy's face grinning at me. What in the world? The sky was dark, lots of stars, no moon.

"Shhhhhh Don't wake your mom or sisters!"

My step sister Celda, his second to youngest, daughter, not Linda; she'd already gone back to live with her mother years before, and my sister were asleep in the next room.

I was totally confused. He told me to dress warm, and to bring my blanket.

What?
He left the room for me to get dressed.

I was in the third grade, and it was so strange. Daddy was always up to something strange. He and I shared many many secrets ...all of them made me laugh. So ... I wiped the sleep from my eyes and put my clothes on.

I took my blanket and went into the kitchen. I had my favorite slippers on instead of my shoes. Daddy was waiting at the table. He shined a flashlight in my face and then his, and said in a really weird voice "are we ready freddy?"

I had no idea ..but hey!

So, I followed him outside and there was a ladder leading up to the roof ... huh?

He took my blanket and shined the flashlight on the ladder.
"Climb up!"
"REALLY?!"
We'd been up there the week before doing some repairs. So, I was familiar with how to climb up safely ...but at night?

He shined the light on his face and gave me a cartoon grin.

So, up the ladder I went. He stood close enough to me so that I knew I was safe.

I got up there and saw, on the flat of the roof ... a blanket, a camping lantern, a picnic basket and a couple of pillows.

I looked down at my Daddy ...and he smiled. I stood aside to let him come up. I started to walk to the blanket and Daddy said
"Don't move till I get up there, I know you feel safe, but without light, you might not be, you need me near you!"

So, he gets there, and we walk to the blanket. His pillow and blanket were already up there, and a pillow for me.

In the basket ...a thermos of hot chocolate, and a bowl of popcorn. How did he pop that without waking anyone up! Smell or noise? Suddenly, I realized I could smell it in the house, I just had been so confused by his midnight games, I hadn't paid attention.
"Daddy, what are we doing?"
"Watch! About 3 minutes later a shooting star ... and within seconds ...another ...and before I knew it ... I was watching my first meteor shower!!!




We ate the popcorn and drank the hot chocolate and when the bowl was empty and the ooohs and ahhhs and "look Daddy's!" were getting to be redundant ... we laid there and watched ... and watched ... and all too soon ...the stars fell with less frequency.



Then we went about 5 minutes in total silence between us ... and not a single star fell ....just the sounds of the night in the mountains ... and the song of love between a father and daughter ...

"Darling, it's over"

"I know"
"Darling, I love you"
"I know Daddy, I love you."

Sara Groves - Less Like Scars

It's another blog post, and another song.

Less Like Scars by Sara Groves...

It's another song that is one that I turn to when I just can't seem to see my way through ... a reminder ...that things will be ok ... that God is growing me. Sometimes, the scars feel like they've been opened, fresh wounds ... but ...they will heal, and they will become character.

This last year ... has been a roller coaster ...from the building of our house, release of my book, resigning of my pastor, the death of 2 friends children, a couple of other deaths, not being able to handle being the center of attention from the house and the book, my husband almost dying, and then, my husband recovering and coming home ...and walking on his own again ..and oxygen not being a 24 hour requirement ... my son's learning disabilities going from severe, to ... they kind of interfere with his school performance. The changing of therapists ... and the therapist being able to really see the real me, get past the masks ..very easily. The leaving of my psychiatrist who I adored ...no other word for it ... I adored him, like I do my big brother. To the emergency medical leave of my therapist (in the same week I found out I couldn't follow my psychiatrist to his new clinic, he wasn't any happier than I) and leaving the worship ministry for a new adventure in Children's ministry ... and then today ... our church ratified a new pastor ...96% ratification ...

It's been a hard year ...but I'm climbing out of the rubble ... and one day ...

It's been a hard year
But I'm climbing out of the rubble
These lessons are hard
Healing changes are subtle
But every day it's

Less like tearing, more like building
Less like captive, more like willing
Less like breakdown, more like surrender
Less like haunting, more like remember

And I feel you here
And you're picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands, a bad situation
But you are able
And in your hands the pain and hurt
Look less like scars and more like
Character

Less like a prison, more like my room
It's less like a casket, more like a womb
Less like dying, more like transcending
Less like fear, less like an ending

And I feel you here
And you're picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands, a bad situation
But you are able
And in your hands the pain and hurt
Look less like scars

Just a little while ago
I couldn't feel the power or the hope
I couldn't cope, I couldn't feel a thing
Just a little while back
I was desperate, broken, laid out, hoping
You would come

And I need you
And I want you here
And I feel you

And I know you're here
And you're picking up the pieces
Forever faithful
It seemed out of my hands, a bad, bad situation
But you are able

And in your hands the pain and hurt
Look less like scars (x3)

And more like
Character

Sunny Days by Jars of Clay

I have just recently gotten DSL to replace my dial up. Since I've frequently shared songs and what they mean to me, having the ability to actually POST the songs ... is a really exciting adventure for me. I hope, I don't wear you out with it.

Please, Bear with me.

This song ... Sunny Days ... is one that I'd heard for several years ... as I was praying over my family ...and my marriage that was failing miserably ... would things ever ever be ok?

I hadn't heard it for a while ... and the other day, I was driving down the road. Frustrated that I am where I am at in therapy. Am I EVER going to get to where I need to be. Will there ever be a time where my heart doesn't break ... will there ever be a time where I can be vunerable, show the real me, and trust the therapist to keep me together while God does the healing?

Can I bear the pain that I'm going through. I want to turn and run ... it's too much, too much pain ...it's taking too long ...

and then, I hear this song ... and I'm reminded of the years of marriage ... 18 years of praying ... 18 years of praying for my family ... 18 years for the success of my marriage ...for the heart of my husband ... and ... 18 years of never being sure if it would be ok. Just only having God to cling to ...

Then ... one sunny day ... the clouds rolled away ... my husband decided Jesus was first ... and our lives took that miraculous rollercoaster of life ...only this time ... it's been a FUN ride, enjoyment, screams of delight and laughter fill our house ... Peace reigns the Eaglers ... we will ... enjoy ... soon and enjoy ... it took 18 years ...but we're here .... and we're safe ... and it's a Sunny Day for my family!

So ...what does that translate to other areas of my life? If he did it, for my marriage, for my family ...would he not do the ssame for my heart? Regardless of whether I can see the pattern or not ... to trust, to pray ..to cling to the Father ... to look to God ... to trust that Sunny day is coming ...

Winter ... the frozen wasteland of memories unwanted, locked away in a cold pocket in the heart ... unwilling to be thawed ...but working it's way out anyway ... and it mets ... ice turns to water ... water flows through everything. The thing, that I thought so hard to keep away. That I fought so hard to never acknowlege it again ... is back ... only, it's melted and it's flown through everything ...and is in need of attention ....

You can loose your mind through this process ...even the song writers admit to it!! But ... it is then that it will be your heart that you find.

I need to take the same love, the same determination that I applied to my family, the same strenght of love and tenacity to pray for my marriage and faimly ... and apply that to myself. To apply it to recovery ... to eating ... to not restiricting ... to healing. To being ... the real me.

Jars Of Clay - Sunny Days Lyrics

Sunny days keepin' the clouds away
I think we're coming to a clearing and a brighter day

So far away. Still I think they say
The wait will make the heart grow stronger or fonder
I can't quite remember anyway

So if you're waitin' for love
Well it's a promise I'll keep
If you don't mind believing that it changes everything
Then time will never matter

Winter, Spring... is what love can truly bring
Ice turns to water, water flows to everything
You can lose your mind, maybe then your heart you'll find
I hope you won't give up what's moving you inside

If the car won't start, when you turn the key
When the music comes on, all your cold, cold heart can do is skip a beat

It's a promise I'll keep
When you're waitin' for love
If you don't mind believing that it changes everything
Then time will never matter