Laughing from my sickbed about my profile....

One  bad day in the mid-80's: hubby's idea of lightening the mood, a gorilla-gram!  I love that I have a bracelet on even when sick.

If I had any idea whatsoever as to what the profile questions were about, I'd 
answer them, no problem!   I really don't mean to sound mysterious.

I'm a wife, a mom and, I hope, a good friend.  My "long-suffering" hubby and I 
have known each other for 37 years, meeting on, of all things, a blind date and 
falling in love at, just about, first sight.  My first reaction upon seeing the 
tall guy in front of me?  "S*^t!  THIS is what I've been waiting for all my 
life?" and proceeding to answer no more than "yes" and "no" for the entire 
evening.  We've been married for 36 years and have three fantastic kids, who 
love their mom and dad's story of how they met and tell everyone about it.  My 
best friend of all time and I have been BFF's for an unbelievable 41 years.  

For a long time I had no idea what the heck was "wrong" with me.  We kept making 
excuses for my seemingly sudden fatigue and brain fog and a host of other 
problems that were added to my "what's wrong with me?" list as the years went 
by.  Eventually, about fifteen years later, I was diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue 
Immune Dysfunction Syndrome (CFIDS) from a severe flu I got in grad school in 
1975, commonly known as Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS), a term my fellow 
sufferers and I detest.  If anything, I prefer the British name for it, Myalgic 
Encephalopathy (ME).  The British ME shows that in England, at least, as well as 
Australia, they take this illness more seriously than we Americans do.

Over the years as I've become more and more sick I've worked hard on trying new 
tricks and ways of surviving this illness.  I've been extremely lucky in that my 
hubby and kids have been so supportive of me over the years - and fierce in 
their own fights to help make my life a bit easier to survive.  

But most of all, the thing that has helped our family stay together and fight 
this beast is our gift of laughter.  And it truly IS a gift.  We've had our 
"challenging" periods and were it not for laughter I just know we would not have 
survived this DD ("dreaded disease, "darn disease," etc., you get the drift).  

I have no idea if anyone is actually reading this blog.  It often feels a bit 
like when I catch myself talking to myself - a genetic thing, I tell myself, 
because I do remember my grandmother doing so!  But I certainly hope I develop a bit 
of a following because over these past 37 years I've been able to come up with 
various coping techniques and tips that may help those with CFIDS, Fibromyalgia, 
insomnia, and, indeed, anyone who suffers from chronic illness, be they totally 
bedridden, as basically I am now, or still struggling to hold down a job, or at 
least some semblance of a social life.  

So glad if you've been able to drop in and spend a bit of your time with me.  
Please leave comments if you're at all inclined to do so and/or subscribe.  I 
will answer any questions you may pose and will enjoy hearing from just about 
anyone...it'll be nice if and when I'm no longer talking to myself.

Loving my wonderful Kindle....

In front of Big Ben: badly centered!
Amazon.com has simply got to be one of the greatest places on-line, perhaps even on earth. And here I speak mostly about books, although as I get used to the 
idea that Amazon has expanded into almost everything short of booking (ha!) 
flights to the moon, I'm begrudgingly accepting the shared wall space with 
"other things" <snarl here, please> when I go to their main page. 
I've been in love with Amazon since the late '90's, feeling extremely guilty 
because our town has a truly wonderful independent bookstore, a dying breed. In 
fact, if I can, I really try to buy locally as much as possible across the line.  
And local independent bookstores should definitely be supported. 

Plus there's nothing like getting to know your indie bookseller. Talk about 
recommendations! I well remember the wonderful years when I took my Christmas 
list up to "Words and Music" and Alan, between other customers, spent most of 
the day helping me pick out the perfect book for each person on my list. One 
year his enthusiasm for Angela's Ashes, a brand new book no had heard of as of 
yet - for my very Irish fellow CFIDer from our St. Louis days - knew no bounds.  
It was a very hard sell, but he was HOW right?

As I've become sicker and sicker I turned to Amazon more and more often. And 
when you are a severe insomniac, it's great to be able to shop in the odd hours 
when the world sleeps. 

When Strand Bookstore in New York went on-line, I also ordered from them by the 
huge - and heavy - boxful. They have the most incredible stock. What an 
unbelievable bookseller - I have been known to be the last customer out, with 
sales personnel literally pushing me out the door while hubby pulled. I make NO 
apologies...the store is incredible and when you first walk in, there is so much 
there that your brain simply fries. You need to allot much time for Strand. It 
takes a while for your brain to come back to normal. My notebook of books 
already read is almost a necessity, I find, because my brain never quite makes 
it back to normal after walking in.  On-line is definitely the way to go.

But all along the way I've been falling more deeply in love with Amazon...it's a 
growing love affair.

So when the age of the Kindle came, I was extremely torn. To say I love books? 
Oh, I don't even know how to convey to anyone how much. But the house was 
getting squeezed by them and since I could never part with any books no matter 
how lousy, and because there were no more areas in the house to build more 
shelves, Kindle started being forced on me. It was a matter of "buy more books 
but get rid of the same number of books in order to have some semblance of an 
orderly house," or resort to Kindle. 

Heresy! I was very conflicted. But any time there was a discussion of the new 
Kindle from BookSpan to Charlie Rose to "Good Morning America," my ears were 
glued to what was being said. 

Another complication in this decision making was that anything mechanical, 
especially electrical, which includes clocks, watches and computers, seems to 
die on me, or at the very least constantly breaks down. Hubby still tells anyone 
who will listen about how Big Ben stopped for the first time ever on August 5, 
1976 on our honeymoon. Let's just say Big Ben was working when my new hubby and 
I sat down to have a late sandwich in a tiny square near Big Ben and fifteen 
minutes later he wasn't moving. 

I used to have three computers in my arsenal: one for in the shop being fixed, 
one ABOUT to go to into the shop to be fixed and one having arrived from the 
shop FINALLY fixed. My family will not allow me to even walk by their computers 
because suddenly their screens would start to do weird things. I've even seen my 
middle child see me coming, grab his laptop and flee. Putting the final touches 
on his PhD dissertation from our home, he was not about to risk losing precious 
data brought home from Australia. (Picky! Picky!)

So, why would a person with my history possibly want the hassle of a Kindle? 
Well, in order to keep buying and reading books, of course - silly! Our 
libraries here are very good and hubby makes frequent runs there weekly, but 
some books you just want to own and some books simply aren't instantly 
available. 

Furthermore, for many it is a wonderful way to go. Some of us have trouble 
holding a book, after all, and a Kindle really helps if you want to continue 
reading.

Thirdly, a real problem with CFIDS and Fibromyalgia is the cognitive problems we 
have. As much as I love to read - a wild understatement - I must admit that 
there have been times when I've forced myself to read, just in order to keep my 
mind from atrophying. I can't believe I'm admitting this, but there have been a 
couple of times when I resorted to harlequin romances...I needed to read because 
I love to and I needed to read to slow the brain deterioration process. 

I often call myself a "moody" reader but that's simply code for saying that 
there are times I can only handle this sort of book, other times I can only 
handle that sort. "Chick lit" one day, Nobel Prize or Pulitzer Prize winner the 
next. And when I read "Wolf Hall"? I love a really long book. But holding one, 
as I mentioned before, is a different story. Finally, being able to match a book 
to your mood in just an instant really helps that pesky "mood" problem.

Anyway, a few months into the second generation of my first Kindle, the 
inevitable happened. I didn't know whether to laugh, cry or get mad at myself. 
Instead, I finally called the Amazon Kindle number to talk to someone and a few 
minutes later, talking to a really, really polite and kind young man, we 
realized that my Kindle was really and truly dead. Since the year warranty was 
still in effect (what WAS I thinking when I didn't buy the extended warranty 
with my history?) I was sent a new Kindle, free of charge. I just had to 
remember to mail back the old one within 30 days, which is not as easy as it 
sounds when you can do nothing, nor remember anything, yet ridiculously easy for 
the rest of the world. They even set it up for me by entering my old books into 
it and the heading on the top of the Kindle read "Irene's 2nd Kindle." Sweet!

Were we all in a group I might stop here and ask how many know where this is 
going! You may be right.

You see, the other night I received "Irene's 5th Kindle." To tell you the truth 
I was a bit uncomfortable calling about this fifth one...in fact, the warranty 
had run out. I knew the warranty starts anew with each new Kindle but I was 
just too plain lazy ("too sick" and "too tired"...remember our code words here!) to 
call and explain the dying process of my fourth Kindle. 

Finally, with the warranty over, I now had to choose from quite an array of new 
Kindles. Did I mention I have a hard time making decisions - a very typical 
CFIDS problem?  Well, finally Kindle number four died absolutely and completely.  
I was going to order a new one after much hemming and hawwing. But I wasn't sure 
that I'd be able to handle the library transfer and registration parts, so I 
wanted to order one from an actual human being. Amazon has them, you see...I 
suspect they're there to be amused by the senior crowd who have no clue as to 
what they are doing. 

I finally got around to calling. And in less than five minutes I was informed 
that by paying $60 I could have a brand new Kindle, the very one I was ready to 
put real money into. How amazing is that?

I must say that the support woman was a bit....shocked?...when she realized this 
was my fifth Kindle. I refrained from telling her about my Big Ben incident.

And England: I'm so sorry. I really didn't mean to hurt Big Ben. It was a 
totally innocent and unintentional act!  My sincerest apologies to all.

Laughing from my sickbed about the new multi-tasking craze...

Oh my.  I have discovered an incredible new category of beauty products, the BB creams, which stand for "Blemish Balm" or "Blemish Base."  Actually, the names are pretty silly because controlling "blemishes" seems the very least of their tasks - if at all.  I wasn't sure exactly how long they'd been around but they seemed to be a wonderful idea for those of us who are a bit lazy when it comes to sun protection and beauty products, be they skincare of just makeup.

OK, OK.  I suppose I should explain my language. When I say, "lazy," I really mean, "too tired and sick."  "Lazy" just seems to make me feel more in control of my life, I suppose. 

Getting back to the BB creams.  I looked them up on Sephora and luckily for me, I didn't have to start pickin' and choosin'.  I am soooo indecisive.  Sephora had a package of a few BB creams just perfect for suckers like me.  Whoops!  Did I say "suckers"?   I meant "enthusiasts." I also had two separate samples from two different companies.  Wow!  I was in business.

The BB creams appear to be all-in-ones.  There are a few differences among them but all appear to be a combination of sunscreen and/or moisturizer/primer, a bit of color that is supposed to fit all and they usually include a skin treatment of one type or another.  You pick out the type you want by which properties you need, be that anti-aging, a  bucket load of anti-oxidants, skin lightening or brightening, and who knows what else!   Incredible.  Since I can never remember which comes first, a sunscreen or a serum, this whole BB cream concept is a no-brainer for me.

If it's at all possible that these creams work, then I'm all for them making my life a little bit easier. It's getting to be a bit difficult to use so very many products at once.  If I don't use sunscreen I'm a fool, if I don't use moisturizer I'll look like a prune, if I don't use a primer my foundation will slide off within an hour of application, and on and on it goes.  In many case I've stopped putting on makeup because it has become such a minefield of products.  And the expression "mutton dressed like lamb" comes to mind, too.

I started off with the Dr. Jart+ Premium Balm (there are two Dr. Jart+'s..why, I have no idea) and can't say how great it is or is not.  The packaging was so wonderfully elegant that I bored my hubby silly by making him examine it for himself.  Of the two of us, I was the person who won the enthusiasm award by a landslide.

Doing a bit of homework I discovered that Dr. Jart+ is evidently one of the first of the BB creams to come to the States from Asia.  Invented by a German dermatologist for patients undergoing laser treatment to sooth red sensitive skin, evidently the creams took South Korea by storm, spreading to the rest of Asia, and then to the US.  BB creams have been described as "an Asian cult favorite."

I have to give Dr. Jart+ another try but I didn't get a rash or break out or feel a burn from my first attempt, a huge plus.  I find that my skin really doesn't like extras, be it because of illness, medicines I'm taking or just plain me, I have no idea.  So, I believe my Dove soap - whoops, they call it a "beauty bar" now - may very well have found a sibling to join my family of must-have's.  I only have to work on figuring out which one I end up liking the most!  

I promise I'll let you know...after all, I'm here to help you live your life a little bit more easily...!

Laughing from my sickbed about my beloved Dove....

I began my last post with the words, "Color me lazy," because I've lived the 
vast majority of my life with little more than Dove soap.  But suddenly I 
realize that I'm not the only "lazy" person out there who's my age, from the era 
when we cared so much about makeup, but really did not worry too much about our 
skin.  

Thank heavens most of us were using Dove soap, now called Dove "beauty bar" in 
order to reach/grab the beauty business.  I've seen that it's now winning awards 
in "best of" lists for magazines such as InStyle.  But the dirty little secret 
here: the Dove we used back in the '60's and '70's is not the Dove of today.  
Believe or not, but our's was much better.  It's been reformulated over the 
years and that's just plain lousy!  Many of us old-timers are spending a lot of 
time lamenting the demise of the old Dove and get more than a bit upset when our 
hubbies accidentally bring home a huge lot of the wrong kind of Dove, like the 
new sensitive editions, exfoliating versions and so forth.  The newly 
reformulated Dove we can sort of live with but the new kinds out there?  Don't 
even get us started!  And what, we wonder, ever happened to the 1/4 moisturizing 
cream of the ads and commercials of yore?  Like I said, don't even get us 
started!

Dove has now spread out to dozens and dozens of products in an effort, I suppose, 
to stay in business with all the face cleansers out there today.  Around the 
time I was in eighth grade, Dove's only competitor seemed to be Noxema, and who 
even remembers Noxema today?  Pond's is still around but that seemed to be a 
product our moms used.  Oil of Olay was a competitor too and I remember using 
that lovely pale pink lotion in a glass bottle on my face for a while, loving 
the smell of it, buying it only when it was on sale because those were our salad 
years when hubby and I could barely manage the rent.  Sooo silly because I 
didn't really need it.  Dove took care of everything, and anything extra I put 
on my face usually caused a small bout of bumps of one sort or another to come 
out as if to warn me what would happen if I even thought of using anything but 
my beloved Dove.

When the Soviet Union fell apart, I flew to visit my cousin in '96, a time 
when Russia was suffering severe shortages of everything from basic aspirin to 
basic food.  Along with candy for her grandchildren I carried many, many bars of 
Dove as a treat for my cousin.  Can you tell I love the stuff?  (And yes, I did 
bring those precious medicines that they needed back then...I'm not completely 
superficial!)

In the hospital I once made the huge mistake of showering with the soap they had 
there - a reputable brand - and within five minutes I started to scratch all 
over.  By the time I called hubby to quickly bring over some Dove from home, 
rashes were setting in.  It was a nasty picture.  I'd never used anything but 
Dove even on my children as babies, having made many a convert to Dove over the 
decades, but from that hospital moment on, I haven't even traveled anywhere but 
with my Dove.  My cousin in Russia, I felt, deserved no less.

My BFF - a term I'm not overly fond of because visions of Paris Hilton and 
Nicole Ricci bounce in my head - and I so love Dove that when she went on her 
first big trip to Europe with her hubby she actually calculated exactly how much 
Dove she needed to bring with her to carry herself and her hubby through those 
weeks but not have any to bring back home with her either.  (And people wonder 
why we've been best friends for over 41 years?)  She knew Dove's properties so 
well that her calculations were right down to the very last day away from home.  
When we traveled to England and later to Paris, we just grabbed however much we 
thought we needed and then some.  By the time Linda went to Europe with her 
hubby, the airlines were cracking down on how much weight and how much luggage 
could be brought with us.  Such a shame!

As I'm discovering a whole world of new CATEGORIES of beauty products (more on 
that to come) I realize that we were so lucky to have had Dove.  It was an era 
of getting as tanned as could be, even if some of us (read pale-skinned me) 
couldn't tan but burn to lobster red.  Dove, which I still use religiously, I 
have a feeling will never be substituted, that is, if they more or less stick 
to their old formula.  My other products may come and go, but my Dove, I hope, 
will be here to stay.

Laughing from my sickbed about skin care.....

Can you tell my BFF picked out this picture for me?  I can!

Color me lazy.  I suppose I've been blessed by good DNA when it comes to wrinkles and such because I've basically lived with little more than good old Dove soap as just about my only skincare.  Oh, I bought LaMer, a ridiculously expensive cream worth every penny for my face too, but I can't say that it's helped a HUGE amount - only because I don't use it on a regular basis.  It's wonderful, wonderful.  I love it.  And its more expensive, but even more effective "The Concentrate," has helped me out of a few jams over the years when need be.  

But the new beauty thing these days seems to be about skinCARE!  Who even cared about skincare until about the last five years - or even less?  No one!  Well, perhaps a few hippies in California, but really, did they even count?  We had makeup, by golly, and we used it liberally.  There was a time NO one saw me without my war paint on, not even my ob/gyn when I delivered three ten-pound screamers.

It's truly amazing how much "paint" can accomplish.  About a year ago, I had a regular appointment with my GP and found that after my shower/bathing ordeal, I actually had a bit of time and, better yet, energy on my hands.  What to do?  I really, really hate to sit around.  Lie around is one thing, but sitting around takes precious ENERGY.

Well, I thought, let's put on some foundation.  And trust me, I really do need foundation. My freckles, let's face it, are, at fifty-plus, not freckles but age spots!  And I have always hidden them... well, once I reached college and was out of sight of my old-fashioned and very strict mom.

So I thought to myself, let's shake the heck out of my long-suffering GP.  He'd not seen me look anywhere near "good" in over a year.  A girl remembers these things, you know.  A little later, bored by the extra time, I thought I'd put on some eyeliner too.  That's getting towards the "big guns" and a real pain because the hand's not too steady any longer.  In fact, if hubby is helping me get ready and sees the eyeliner in my hand, he know to flee.  Nothing puts me into as foul a mood as putting on eyeliner.  It used to be something that took no more than two minutes, if I were having a bad day.  Now, darn it, the eyesight is going too, so that makes it an even harder job to accomplish.  Magnifying mirror is not enough...worse mood.

After about two hours of paint, rest, paint, rest, I was looking pret-ty dern good.  That Nars illuminator with the Bare Escentuals Radiance worked beautifully together but I know I'll never be able to reproduce the successful combination...sigh.  

I had my appointment and as I was leaving, my doctor said, "you are looking really good today!"  I've never, ever been able to take a compliment graciously - mostly because I'm looking for some sort of hidden smirk behind the compliment.  After muttering something inane about how it took me two hours to achieve this look (how embarrassing is THAT statement?) I suddenly remembered that there WAS something I forgot to mention, a new, big pain.  Understand I live in pain every day, but this was new.  OK.  I get new stuff all the time too, but this actually got MY attention, somewhat of a miracle, trust me!

Well, I looked so good that the doctor poo-poo'ed it and pointed out how much stress we were under lately...true.  I didn't think that explained the "new pain" but...hey, the man's been right on an occasion or two (ha!).

That day I also decided that the two almost year-old prescriptions for glasses I'd been carrying around could be filled at the one-hour place at the mall.  Yes siree, get me out of my bed and the sky's the limit.  Often my daughter will say, "so, shall we now drive up to Babushka's?"... her grandmother who lives eight hours away. Cute kid!  Very funny kid.

I was in an absolutely wonderful mood.  I actually picked out two frames I loved, a first.  My son and I sat down where he gobbled down his dinner and then ate mine too.  Good time as we walked around.  

My luck!  I picked up the glasses and tried them on.  Both prescriptions were wrong...WAY wrong.  The man, who HAD thought that they were an odd prescription, tried to talk me into liking the new "vision."  I informed him that IF my son were playing at the Super Bowl and IF I wanted to see if his nose were running, only THEN would I need the new prescription.  I had thought the new eye doctor might have been a bit off when I saw her...OK, I actually wondered if she was nipping from a bottle, but never did I expect a bad prescription.  The reading glasses were off too.  The poor optometrist at the one-hour place was about to go home but he was roped into checking my eyes.  I really did not want to come back.  Who knew WHEN I'd put makeup on again, much less get out of bed for a day...carpe diem, as my disgustingly optimistic hubby would say.  Seize the day!

Two new pairs of glasses had to be grinded.  My son looked at me and said, "things never do go quite smoothly for you, mom, do they?" Oh, as I've said once before, out of the mouth of babes!  An hour later, I was on my way home, happy that I'd picked out new glass frames to go with eyes which had on makeup.  The last time had been without eye makeup and it was a most unfortunate move.

But the next day, I had a really bad pain that nothing would help.  I finally woke up that eternally optimistic hubby of mine who took one look at me and said, "OK...off to the ER!"  There we had many tests and it turned out that this new pain was gall bladder stones!  Appointments for further testing were made.

So, the moral of my story?  Well, there are several morals but I'll only point out a few.

Ladies, do NOT throw your doctor off by putting on war paint when going for an appointment. It really threw my GP off his game.  Wow!  Was HE ever shocked! 

Secondly?  DO wear your eye makeup when picking out new eyeglass frames.  I hated every minute of the four years I wore the pair where I wore no makeup picking out the frames.  Sad.

Thirdly, if you think there's something wrong about a doctor...look into it, for heaven's sake.  That woman was nuts!  NOT to mention blind.

Fourthly: skincare is here to stay, girls!  Forget the big guns and paint.  Yes, the no-makeup look takes a lot of work but don't let anyone fool you...it's a lot easier to achieve if your skin is good to begin with.  I know, it's very time-consuming, but what can I say?  Sometimes it's a real pain being a woman.

Finally, if you go to the ER, you may want to consider washing your face off with bleach and detergent...you WANT to look bad and not radiant from the latest wonderful blush you bought.  Church: wear it all.  Hospital?  If you want to be taken seriously, don't even THINK about hydrating your face!

Oh, I just couldn't leave things well enough alone.  The spacing of my first post, "Laughing From My Sickbed Starts...." was awful and I couldn't fix it.  It bugged and bugged and bugged me, sort of the way plaque behind your teeth can in the week before you have an appointment with the dental hygienist. I thought I'd give it a whirl a little while ago and now I'm going nuts because somehow the post got deleted instead of changed. I somehow recovered the old thing (long story I won't bore you with) but now my teeny tiny bit of OCD is popping out and I can't stand having the posts in the wrong order!


But I have learned a lesson.  You win some, you lose some.  OK, technically I learned that in kindergarten...but I suppose I needed a refresher course in that again tonight. I think I have a pretty new background (the win!) but we don't have the right order (the lose part).


Perhaps I'll feel better if I call and make an appointment with the dental hygienist.  It's about time.


No, no, no...I wish the print were darker....but I've learned my lesson....off! off! off! Call the hygienist already!


I do have a new post coming very soon if all goes well....

Laughing from my sickbed with Oscar...

It's the day of the year that, I dare say, is just about a religious holiday in our home: Oscar Night! This is the day that probably has the most interesting memories tied up with it, more so than any other day of the year. Christmases come and go, with each tree looking more or less the same.  But Oscar night....oh my, now that's a totally different animal. 

When my vacation-phobic hubby announced that he had to be in London for some sort of business one particular year, I was NOT about to allow him to go alone!   I don't even know where to begin on how very wrong it would be for him to be in London, my absolutely most favorite place in the world, and me home with three crazy kids? Was he nuts????  Huh.  In his dreams was he going without me.  

Well, I finally talked him into a family vacation, offering to fly out with the three young kids on my own once his conference was over.  My children, the youngest seven years old at the time, the next eight and thus the oldest nine, turned on ME!   You see, though this was months in advance, they knew exactly which night the Oscar's would be on.  I looked at them askance, wondering if these kids were in fact children and not some sorts of aliens as my youngest turned away from me to a quick huddle of "the three" and heaven only knows what they said.  

Oh what turncoats!  They wanted it understood that they were not about to leave the good old US of A if it meant missing Oscar.  As I tried to overhear what was being said - this WAS my chance to go to England about to disappear, after all! -  I heard little murmurs of "VCR, but that wouldn't be live," muttered by someone.  Finally the seven year old turned to me and said, "Mom, you can call and find out if they're going to show the Oscar's in London.  I think they have movies there too?" Ahhhh....out of the mouth of babes!   With that he went off to call the airlines to find out which movies would be shown during the flights.  I had absolutely no idea you could call and find out about these sorts of things but my munchkins knew, and how to do it, too.  Oh, if ONLY I were exaggerating. 

Well, we rented a flat and it was a wonderful time that we had, including watching the Oscar's.  The kids and hubby would go out and I stayed in, blissfully reading in bed most of our two weeks in London.  And hubby, at the suggestion of the kids, "hired" a wheelchair for me.  Well, there was no going back after that!   The Brits were so wonderful about a wheelchair and we were given such a spectacular behind-the-scenes tour at Kensington Palace and special treats at Nottingham because of my embarrassingly uncooperative body that my kids thought they should drag out old mom in a wheelchair for everything! 

But I digress.  Back to Oscar. We had a cat, whom hubby called "the million dollar cat" because as a kitten she became extremely sick and instead of following our vet's advice and putting her to sleep, we sent her to Columbus' vet school for hospitalization and testing where her bills were, understandably, phenomenal.  Misty was our miracle cat whom we had for over 12 years, who needed chemo every day, which was almost the least of her problems. She was a very sweet cat and always wanted to be where the action was, wherever that might be, but never IN the action, just a bit off to the side.   Not on Oscar night, however!  On that night, the kids would pile into my king-sized bed with me, hubby in his usual wing chair next to the bed, and Misty, for one day a year only, would want to be with us, center stage, literally and appropriately. 

When my daughter went off to college, the day the Oscar's rolled around was the day that I truly felt my "empty nest syndrome" at its worst.  Only years later did I discover that my daughter also missed seeing the Oscar's in my bed.  She tried to make it home for the "holiday" but it just didn't work out. Monday morning classes and all.... 

Just a few years ago, I had hubby bring a table up to the bedroom and my oldest came over to watch with us.  I had just started into my Jonny Bowden's "150 Healthiest Foods" book, my latest food program...if the food wasn't in there, I wasn't eatin' it!  That night I had organic clementines for the first time, as well as organic high cocoa content dark chocolate, creamy French Brie.... Oh, that was a particularly good Oscar year. 

Looking back, I think one of the reasons that Oscar night was a biggie in our home was that that was one night when mom was a real mom and all of us piling into my bed in front of the TV wasn't "weird." I wasn't in a state of guilt or torment that I was in my usual long nightgown attire.  Some of Hollywood's finest appeared to be attired similarly, though just a tad more glamorously. 

We've not had a whole night of "us five" together for Oscar Night in a long time, but as we watch part of the show tonight, wherever "we  five" may be, I just know that the best part now is the memories of this most quirky night.  Last year my daughter ordered "petit fours," which I'd not had since prom night of 1970, and not a fan of them then.  But my daughter's petit fours were special. These had movie-themed decorations on each, which she'd ordered from somewhere for an ungodly amount of money...but when I tried them, they were bliss, melting in my mouth with layers and layers of delicate flavors revealing themselves slowly and richly. 

This year, we may not be together for the entire Oscar ceremony but I'm sure I'll send a play-by-play for a couple of hours via Facebook to the kid now living in Malaysia and I may be on the phone for parts of it with my daughter.  But it'll still be special, even as my hubby falls asleep next to me, denying he'd been snoozing.

Laughing from my sickbed starts...

In the past year and a half I’ve learned how to navigate the Internet, somewhat, finally!  It’s all due to my family’s latest effort to drag me, yes, kicking and screaming, into the 21^st century, this time with an iPad.

I call it the “idiot pad,” because surely it had to have been invented for those like me who absolutely fear computers. Or are constantly breaking them.  But more on that later.

I started, after a few months of leering at the iPad with disdain and suspicion, to fool around with the darn thing.

Oh yeah.  I missed a biggie here.  I’m basically a bedridden person.  So the idiot pad was perfect for me in that too.  I didn’t have to get out of bed to rediscover the world of the Internet.  Yes, I could get out of bed some days and try to communicate through computers which I feared and broke on a regular basis, but my brain was then so fogged up that it was a truly painful and awful experience for all.  In bed with my iPad, I could actually think!  And I love to think.  It’s actually one of my hobbies, sometimes to my family’s dismay.

But this blog is not going to be just about being sick.  Frankly, I try to hide my illness from the world, often successfully.  People tend to think I’m simply a hermit.

I, in turn, discovered Facebook.  Actually, if truth be told, I was forced to discover it, but that too is another story, for another time (hopefully!).  As I found friends from my past and formed a few new friendships, I now heard a new message from them.  For years and years people would say to me, you need to write a book!  Ugh!  I’m not up to it.  Now I was hearing, “you need to write a blog.”  Me: what’s a blog?  (I told you I was dragged into the 21^st century but you didn’t believe me, did you?)

Then after ordering books from Amazon on blogs – but never reading them – I thought, no blog!  I’m much too private a person for that.  I mean, I was upset when the number of people I’d friended on Facebook reached 13, then 20, then 25.  I kept having to up my “no more than” number.  I’m up to 40 now and that just about makes me break out in hives.

But I think the time has finally come to start a blog, or to at least try to start one and see where it goes.  I stumbled over one blog a couple of weeks ago, A Model Recommends, from a British model who’s just so sweet and funny, writing about beauty, skincare, all sorts of the fun things I do love.  In secret I’m a bit of a beauty products junkie, though not successfully since I….  Well, more on THAT later too!!  I thought to write to Ruth, our model, to see if she’d consider adding anything at all for those of us with, ahem, shall I say “slightly more mature skin?”  Well, I discovered, almost all on my own, that her mum had started a blog too!  What fun.

I then desperately wanted both of them as my buddies and that’s when I realized that if I didn’t want to become some sort of stalker crazy person, it may be best if I just go and try my own blog.  Even my hubby, who must win some sort of award for being a privacy nut, keeps saying I need to write a blog!  And I’d also just realized that you can learn everything and anything you want on YouTube, so inadequate computer skills were no longer a legitimate excuse.  (More on that later on too!)

And so I am going to try this new social experiment.

Most of all, I love to laugh and I love to make other people laugh.  No, not in a Billy Crystal or Joan Rivers way (can you tell I have the Oscar’s on my mind?) but in a funny next-door neighbor sort of way.  So, I do hope this blog will be funny or add a chuckle to your day.

And I love to read…in fact, I‘m a bookaholic but due to a few crises in the last couple of years I’ve, for the first time in my life, not been able to read.  But I am starting to regain that concentration, so there is hope.  I belonged to a small book club I co-started in our small town when my oldest was in 3^rd grade (she’s 32 now and is a teacher with her own self-contained autism classroom – forgive a mom for bragging!) and this was before anyone had even heard of a book club, even Oprah.   But we fell apart after about 15 years once retirement started in, as well as politics creeping in….

So, books, yes.  Politics, no – not in this blog.  Fun, yes, seriousness, yes, at times, as in how to live more easily with chronic illness, tips and so forth.   Books, a bit of history…how, even, to get more sleep, a biggie for all, I’m discovering, much to my dismay.

Beauty, yes!  Fashion, yes!  Gardening, yes!  Cooking, yes!  Travel.  Being a mom, a wife, a best friend, yes, yes, yes!  Even a bit…ok, perhaps a LOT, of musings.  Certainly ramblings, which I’m so famous for, will unfortunately, find their way into this too.

But most of all, all with a bit of laughter.  It helps cover a multitude of sins and helps ever so much to get us through whatever problems any of us are going through!  Such a cliché, I know, but there you have it….

So, kick up your feet and join me in what I hope will be my new adventure!

All best,

Upa