Life Is Bittersweet, Pull Together

January has been so full and a classic example of bittersweet. Taking the Christmas decorations down is bitter, but not having a credit card bill is sweet.

Bake the Hubs had his shoulder replaced. Bitter slogging through insurance companies, but sweet when it all worked out. Bitter painful going in, hopefully sweet range of motion coming out. I was living two lives for a while, his and mine, bittersweet because he lives an interesting life, but I grow tired faster than I used to. He asked me once why I was so willing to help him, and out popped, “Because Jesus isn’t here.” Where did that come from?

I’m training to become a Court Appointed Special Advocate for foster kids. Bitter hours studying, but sweet to be the voice for a kid who’s experiencing one of life’s toughest times.

My little dog, Aime, is coming to her first birthday on Valentine’s Day, and so her test to become a therapy dog should be the end of February. All sweet!

Our anniversary was last weekend and we took a trip to the California coast. Sweet! Tide’s in, and we ate seafood like a king and queen. Visited the aquarium, rode the Cannery Row trolley for the first time (I can’t believe it, in all these years). Had Ghirardelli coffee while we watched the ocean, my husband’s mistress.

frozen wave against sunlight

All sweet, except it wore him out a little, minor bitter.

Not only that, but I found out Charles Martin, my favorite living author, is keynoting Mt.  Hermon Christian Writers Conference in April, and I’m going! Sweeeeeeet!!!!

We even ate sweet and sour chicken this week. I guess that about covers it. See you in February.

Toenail Fungus

I just can’t resist. I’m looking at my blog, and there’s an ad for something that gets rid of toenail fungus right under my post. Toenail fungus! I must write a story.

Fred was a lucky little fungus dude, born on a beach like that. He spent his days dodging crabs and those weird sand bugs and big feet. He hid under driftwood at noon, preferring dark; and ran from the high tide laughing like a fool. He enjoyed the leavings of picnickers and lived in children’s sand castles until the waves obliterated them. Livin’ the good life.

Until that fateful day. He had climbed to the keep of his current castle to check the weather when the world went dark. And collapsed on him.

He squeezed between skin and sand until he saw light, crawled up in a space and climbed up to a rock, or what felt like a rock. Acutally it smelled like food, so he dug in. And then the food began to jerk and jump, a roller coaster effect. Fred hid in a crack and hung on for dear life.  After a wild ride, the food finally stopped in a ray of sun. Fred wasn’t crazy about sun, but suddenly a black cloud covered it. He went back to consuming the delicious yummies he’d been so fortunate to find. Only, it wasn’t long before something hard and smelly squeezed him back  into the crack.

Oh well, there were munchies in there, too. He kept chewing, day after day.

Until another fateful day that reminded him of that Raid commercial. First, there was this dagnasty smell. Then he was swimming in acid,  screaming for help. He climbed up on the rock and shook himself off, breathing hard. Here came that black whatever that was again. It wiped up the acid and the smell dissipated.

shallow focus photography of brown mushroom

Fred, who was developing a pot belly, but we won’t mention that, resumed his meal. About every 24 hours he gets an acid bath, but he doesn’t mind. It doesn’t affect the delicacies he dines on.

As far as anyone knows, he’s still at it.

Next Year

Nope, not resolutions. Seems like a bargain with failure. However, great ideas, you betcha!

I’m going to invite other authors to blog here. That’ll be fun.

I’m going to let my little dog take the therapy dog test, and then we’re headed for the library, hospital, and whereve else she can share love.20191203_142027

I’m going to train to be a CASA volunteer to help foster kids navigate this crazy world.

I’m going to a few weddings and birthdays and holidays and Neighborhood Watch stuff.

I’m going to get on down to love the homeless at the Shower Shuttle now and then, and take that dog I mentioned.

And I’m going to love my family despite the fact that we are cussed people, but made in the image of God. That is all, unless God has other ideas.

As Welcome as a Trip to the Dentist

Have you ever kicked your shoes off in your dentist’s office? Up until yesterday, neither had I. After the truly technological marvel of having my teeth xrayed by this machine that moved around my head like R2D2 doing a waltz, one of my shoes litterally fell off, plunk, while the technician was cleaning my teeth. Next thing I know, my other shoe is on the floor, too. I actually wiggled my sock-clad toes.

business care clean clinic

Now, that “make myself at home” feeling isn’t all I like about my dentist’s office. My dentist NEVER hurts me, and neither do the hygenists. Past the really friendly staff, I love the music. On any given day, I can keep the rhythm of Jimmy Buffet or Billy Joel or a whole bunch of other wonderful. Not only that, there are cool things sitting on ledges and surf boards up against the walls – yeah, really. I have this huge space between a couple of my teeth that picks up everything except boys and money. Some dentists would say, “Man, we need to remedy this.” Mine said, “Yeah, my wife’s got one, too. As long as it isn’t bothering you, just keep cleaning out the food.” He also talks to me about books and travelling. I love it.

Once a year there’s pirate day. I actually got to go that day once. Everyone is dressed like a pirate, and the dentist sings the “Yo ho ho, and a bottle of rum” song on his way in to check your teefies. To join in the festivities, I placed a gold coin on my tongue just before he entered and displayed it when he asked me to open my mouth. That was fun.

Yesterday, I also got to pet Rasta, the therapy dog. Oh my lord, what more could you ask in a dentist? Dentist heaven, just sayin’. Thanks, Fletch!

Joy in the Back Seat

The title may seem to allude to teenagers and steamed up windows, but nope.

adult attractive beautiful blur

This one is about taking the back seat. The older I grow, the more I notice I’m taking a back seat to my children and grandchildren. It’s become their day. At first, that kind of bothered me. I like to be in the middle of the action, you see.

However, if the last shall be first … back seat, see? But more to the point, in the back seat I can serve in a million ways. A. I have more time, what with not paying attention to the road so much; B. I’ve been down this road, so I can point out the potholes as well as the scenic vistas; C. I can refuse to backseat drive; D. I can snitch snacks from the sack on the floor (say what?); E. I can play with the kids who are also relegated to the backseat, and throw in a little tutorial storytelling; F. I can climb up on the rear window ledge with the dog, sing about the moon, and watch the rising and falling electrical lines like I used to when I was a kid; (Some would say my singing isn’t serving, I’m okay with that.) G. I can make cool stuff back here, like mysteries and mittens; H. I can fix stuff that broke, like headless dolls or zippers that don’t zip. I could go on, but I think the joy is already showing. There’s plenty of action in the back seat. (Get your head out of the gutter.)

adult blur boy car