Am I a birdbrain? Have I become scatterbrained?
Could be.
Is it age or illness or both or none?
I just want it to go away. Someone said, I always had a full plate and loads of projects going on.
True.
They hit that nail on the head.
I agree with Erma Bombeck, I want to think I used up all my talents.
Quoted from Erma Bombeck:
"When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, "I used everything you gave me".
I am currently living in a barter situation. In exchange for a camping spot with electric, water and laundry, I am working part-time for the homeowners. No money, but a place for Wolfman Harley and I, to lay our (scatterbrained) head(s) at night.
It's in suburbia.
I'm lonesome in a strange sort of way. Writing requires tons of solitude. When not working for my rent, I am writing, designing, promoting my book, repairing the motorhome, walking the dog, playing with the dog, feeding the dog, feeding me, feeding them, cleaning up, fighting to get well, and juggling a nightmare.
Sometimes I actually do take a break, but rarely. Much of my break time consist of my refusal to work while eating. I think it's important to eat peacefully,without interruptions or work at hand.
I hit the bed exhausted each evening. I try to focus on healing before I pass over into slumber land. But I am up and down all night. Finally at daybreak, I am anxious to tackle the new day, even though I am still ensconced in a heavy fog.
My puppy loves to play when we first get in bed. He sleeps in his own little bed in the corner of my bed lately. He needs the extra warmth from the mattress warmer on nights like last night when it got to 55F degrees.
We sleep with the windows open, without heat, except for the mattress warmer.
When I go to bed, he hops up in my bed with one or more doggy toys. I toss these down the hallway of the motorhome. He runs to fetch them then races back to my bed, as if his overall time is of critical importance. One of his favorites is this huge cylindrical dog toy we call Bo-Bo.
I can say "Get Bo-Bo" and he will fetch his big oblong stuffed toy, that is bigger than him. He looks ridiculous running with it in his mouth, perpendicular to his own tiny body of six pounds. Sometimes after tossing Bo-Bo for repeated fetchings, I grab Bo-Bo and we wrestle for control. After a few minutes of playing he curls up in his tiny bed. Harley is my favorite waste of time, but he's been a healing dog. Gets me out walking, makes me laugh, but he's a ton of work too. Especially when he decides to unstuff his stuffed toys.
I am reduced to picking up tiny bits of fluff all over the place. Pets should come with their own vacuum cleaner.
On the other hand, Roseanne Barr once said something like she wasn't vacuuming until they made one she could ride on.
Sometime during the day, the little Wolfman puppy does one or more things that make me smile or laugh. Laughter is the best medicine.
Going more than a day without laughter is bad for you. Akin to being seriously constipated.
Lately, I've been grumpy in my head. It's so easy to be outwardly grumpy, much harder to be grumpy and hide it. So I am battling the grumps, trying to keep them all to myself.
Sometimes I think I will only give the nightmare one hour per day. The other 23 hours I will deal with other stuff.
But nightmares have a way of wanting to consume your whole life.
So I pack up the nightmare for a moment, put on my happy face and try to do 1,001 things.
I try to remember to smile when I feel down. It feels instantly better. Try it now. Smile.
Smile some more.
There, now don't you feel better already?
Could be.
Is it age or illness or both or none?
I just want it to go away. Someone said, I always had a full plate and loads of projects going on.
True.
They hit that nail on the head.
I agree with Erma Bombeck, I want to think I used up all my talents.
Quoted from Erma Bombeck:
"When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, "I used everything you gave me".
I am currently living in a barter situation. In exchange for a camping spot with electric, water and laundry, I am working part-time for the homeowners. No money, but a place for Wolfman Harley and I, to lay our (scatterbrained) head(s) at night.
It's in suburbia.
I'm lonesome in a strange sort of way. Writing requires tons of solitude. When not working for my rent, I am writing, designing, promoting my book, repairing the motorhome, walking the dog, playing with the dog, feeding the dog, feeding me, feeding them, cleaning up, fighting to get well, and juggling a nightmare.
Sometimes I actually do take a break, but rarely. Much of my break time consist of my refusal to work while eating. I think it's important to eat peacefully,without interruptions or work at hand.
I hit the bed exhausted each evening. I try to focus on healing before I pass over into slumber land. But I am up and down all night. Finally at daybreak, I am anxious to tackle the new day, even though I am still ensconced in a heavy fog.
My puppy loves to play when we first get in bed. He sleeps in his own little bed in the corner of my bed lately. He needs the extra warmth from the mattress warmer on nights like last night when it got to 55F degrees.
We sleep with the windows open, without heat, except for the mattress warmer.
When I go to bed, he hops up in my bed with one or more doggy toys. I toss these down the hallway of the motorhome. He runs to fetch them then races back to my bed, as if his overall time is of critical importance. One of his favorites is this huge cylindrical dog toy we call Bo-Bo.
I can say "Get Bo-Bo" and he will fetch his big oblong stuffed toy, that is bigger than him. He looks ridiculous running with it in his mouth, perpendicular to his own tiny body of six pounds. Sometimes after tossing Bo-Bo for repeated fetchings, I grab Bo-Bo and we wrestle for control. After a few minutes of playing he curls up in his tiny bed. Harley is my favorite waste of time, but he's been a healing dog. Gets me out walking, makes me laugh, but he's a ton of work too. Especially when he decides to unstuff his stuffed toys.
I am reduced to picking up tiny bits of fluff all over the place. Pets should come with their own vacuum cleaner.
On the other hand, Roseanne Barr once said something like she wasn't vacuuming until they made one she could ride on.
Sometime during the day, the little Wolfman puppy does one or more things that make me smile or laugh. Laughter is the best medicine.
Going more than a day without laughter is bad for you. Akin to being seriously constipated.
Lately, I've been grumpy in my head. It's so easy to be outwardly grumpy, much harder to be grumpy and hide it. So I am battling the grumps, trying to keep them all to myself.
Sometimes I think I will only give the nightmare one hour per day. The other 23 hours I will deal with other stuff.
But nightmares have a way of wanting to consume your whole life.
So I pack up the nightmare for a moment, put on my happy face and try to do 1,001 things.
I try to remember to smile when I feel down. It feels instantly better. Try it now. Smile.
Smile some more.
There, now don't you feel better already?
This picture was taken at my friend's house in New England. When he saw it, he nicknamed Harley as The Wolfman, or sometimes Wolfman Harley. Now I find myself calling him Wolfman, or Wolfman Harley or Little Wolfman.
Look at the closeup picture below.
Is it frightening or funny?
Ahoy!
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Dear Miss Mermaid,
ReplyDeleteThank you for your blog. Your encouragement helps me get thru my days and yet I'm not ill or displaced. I smiled and it felt funny to do it. I smiled again and laughed at myself. Now that was funny! Thank you for your gentle heart; know we are out there reading and praying for you and Harley. Be safe, be strong, keep smiling.
Harley reminds me of a dog in a story I read when I was in grade 6 or 7. I loved the book and have never forgotten it. You should try and find it and read it, I think you'd love it. It was called Hurry Home Candy.
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