Still pretty and blooming

Since moving, my geraniums have been on the back deck here on Chickadee Lane and I have put them down into some pretty planters. The one that housed three broods of doves has recovered nicely, and is now blooming more easily without the added stress of housing the weight of new life.

They have outbloomed themselves. Now, we are almost into September and things will be winding down. I have enjoyed their color and beauty since April. Fall is a favorite time of year for me. I love it almost as much as the spring. A time to slow down, cuddle up, and reflect on what is to come. Windows and screen doors open as the breezes cool things down, which will be a very welcome reprieve from the sweltering heat this summer has brought. I am looking forward to it so very much.

A gift I'll cherish...

Earlier this month, my friend Mata wrote about Selling the Holy Family on her blog and what a dilemma she was having finding a home for many of her mom's cherished nativities. I was quick to volunteer to provide a home for one, as I knew it would be a gift that I'd cherish since it meant so much to her mom, and Mata is someone who has so widened my own spiritual journey.




I received a beautiful floral mailer in the mail with two of the most exquisite, yet simple nativities. The larger one was made in Poland, her family's native land, and I almost cried when I unwrapped it. The smaller one is just as beautifully simple, yet still lovely.

I know that her Mom meant so much to Mata, and by reading many of the things she's shared about this remarkable lady, I have felt as if I have come to know her spirit a little bit. I hope she is smiling with the joy of knowing that her beautiful nativities will be cherished forever, and appreciated more than she could imagine. Thanks again my friend.

Brave young man

This young juvenile hummer has been trying his best to "own" my window feeder for the past weeks. He dive bombs any other bird who dares to try and sip some of his claimed nectar. I had seen him still on the feeder numerous times and could see the few small ruby patches on his throat, but he would never stay long enough for a photo.

Finally, one evening I found him sitting on a hosta stem guarding his feeder, and was able to finally get a shot, with his juvenile breast gleaming. So proud and so fierce... I hope he survives the migration so I can see his full ruby shine next season.

So, my mom calls last night...

... and she mentions that she had an interesting discussion with someone this weekend. Seems this nice lady called about an item they have for sale, and was interested in it for her daughter. In the course of conversation, she finds out that the daughter is just out of college, and is starting her first job as... a special education teacher.

"Oh?"my mom says to her, "I have a grandson with autism, so I know a bit about Special Ed." The conversation continues and what comes to light is that this woman is a nurse. Yep, not only is she a nurse, but she'd been a nurse at my hospital for 25 years, before leaving six months ago. And where is she now working? She tells my mom that she left to go to Hospice and she's never been happier in her life and told my mom to have me call her.

Coincidence? I choose to think not.... I am listening Lord. And I will call her tonight.

Hooray for Shawn!

Last weekend, we changed all the air filters in the house. Took us a while to locate them all, measure, and make sure we didn't miss any. If there is one thing my dad taught me, it's to maintain those filters in order to keep your air conditioning system running properly and to cut down on costs. Thanks Dad.

When we took the grate back on the one upstairs in the hallway outside Sam's room, it was worse than filthy. I mean, I was wondering if it had ever been changed it was so dirty. It was a wonder any air was circulating up there at all.

Yesterday we were out at the pool in the afternoon, and once we came in around 7PM, I took Sam a sandwich up to his room. I immediately noticed it was stifling hot up there. I looked at the thermostat and it was reading 82 degrees... certainly not the 73-74 where it is set. Uh-oh. Husband was shocking the pool, and once he was in, we started calling places with the "24/7 service" ads in the yellow pages. It would take them a while to call back, but many who did told us that unless we had a service contract with them, it would be next week sometime. Huh? Finally, after the fourth or fifth call, a guy named Shawn called back from Pretty Nearby City Heating and Air, and said he'd be glad to come out. By that time, it was already almost 8:15, but it was like a boiler room upstairs, and we had to get it repaired. I gave him directions, and he mentioned that he'd been in our area earlier in the day, so he knew where we were.

By 8:50, when we had not heard anything, the phone rang. He was lost, but thankfully was only in the next neighborhood down the road, and with some clarification, found us. He was a young guy, but really kind and professional. He immediately got down to business and after checking the outside unit, came inside to find the upstairs control unit, which we found out, is located in an attic access in the ceiling of Sam's closet... wonder of wonders. Shawn had to climb up in there on the 6 ft ladder, but quickly diagnosed our problem. Seems the drip pan was full to the brim, and as a safety mechanism, the unit cuts off so that you don't get water all over your ceilings. He had to take a shop vac up there, vacuum it all out, check the drain, which was clear, and then reset the unit. It had simply frozen up, probably from the months of trying to work properly with a clogged air filter. Once we changed the filter, all that condensation started melting as it was working more easily and filled the drip pan. Whew.... thank goodness the unit was working properly, and there were no other issues. So, poor Shawn had to empty his shop vac twice, and by the time he climbed out of my attic, it was 10:15, but cool air was flowing, and now it is a nice 73 degrees upstairs once again.

Moral of the story... spend a few bucks and maintain your air filters every other month or so my friends. Thanks for your good work and professionalism Shawn.

Butterflying

This beautiful photo was shot by my sister off her deck. She makes a point to have lovely flowers in baskets all over her deck, and thus she is rewarded with visions like this. Thanks for sharing sissy. I love you.

Confirmation

As I have contemplated my upcoming quest for a new career path, it has become more and more apparent to me that it is time to move on. I have much less patience for things that I was once able to somehow reconcile.

Yesterday, I went to see a new patient, and the minute I walked into the room, I knew I knew this guy and his mom. I could not place when I'd met them, but I knew that I had. Once he started his story, it all started coming back to me. Years ago, in a drug induced state, he was in the middle of perpetrating a crime in which he almost ran over a police officer. He wrecked his vehicle and became a paraplegic. He still lives in that indignant Can You Believe What Happened To Me place, and everything bad that has happened to him since that time is someone else's fault. No one knows what's best for him except his mom, who dutifully plays the role of Poor Son's Indignant Nursemaid and Defender. No one who does anything for him knows what they are doing. No, it does not matter that son does not take care of himself in terms of pressure relief, adequate nutrition and skin care. Nope, if he gets a pressure wound (and he has two currently), it is someone else's fault entirely, oh, and no one can heal him, period. I stood and listened to his saga and while outwardly I was being empathetic and kind, inwardly I was realizing that this is just one more confirmation to me that I need to find something else to do as I could not wait to get out of there. I am tired and weary of taking care of people like this. I would much rather be working in a Hallmark store surrounded by candles and potpourri all day.... that's where I was in my mind as he recited all the dates of his previous wounds and battle scars. It's so time for me to fly...

Sad, but true

Since I was off yesterday, and was able to get most of my errands done by lunchtime, I decided to run to the mall and see if I could find myself a new swimsuit. I really only have one three year old suit that I wear a good bit, and now that we are swimming so much more often, I needed an alternative. I figured this would be a most excellent time to get one as they are on clearance and will soon be whisked off the shelves and replaced with parkas.

I went to Dillards and found a large section of them for up to 75% off. Yahoo. The sales gal in the department was so nice and helped me weed through the racks when I told her the style I wanted and the approximate size. Swimsuit hunting was always the most dreaded task of my life growing up, and it's only now that I can even do it without getting quite exasperated. Maybe age does that for us. I know I need to camouflage the backs of the thighs, and I know I won't get anything that says, "Hey look at me.. I'm trying to be 25 again!" I also am old enough to know that if I don't fork over the bucks, it's impossible to get a well made suit that lasts and does not ravel or ride up in all the wrong places. So, I was perfectly thrilled to find a cute black skirt bottom with a floral tankini top. When looking further for another top to go with it, I found the skirt bottom that went with the floral top AND the bikini top. Eureka! So, I was thrilled to get to the check out and spend only $86 for all four pieces. That's two swimsuits for the price of what you'd pay for one good one.

I was quite pleased with myself, until I headed towards the parking lot entrance and saw as I was going through the men's department that their swim trunks were also on sale. They had a huge selection, and so I had to stop and get a couple of pairs for both my boys. I found husband two nice trunks and got Sam one to match dad's and a red one as well. The sales guy was ringing them up and commenting on what a good bargain I'd gotten. I knew they were marked down considerably, but imagine my mouth dropping when he told me the grand total for FOUR swim trunks was.... $24.97. Sad, but true, and probably more fabric in one than in two pieces of my new suits. Sigh....

Finally... welcome home!

Yesterday afternoon, I was out pruning my geraniums on the deck, when I heard it..."chick-a-dee-dee." That unmistakable sound of the Carolina Chickadee up in the trees behind the house. Finally, a chickadee on Chickadee Lane!

My feeders have been up for going on three weeks now, and are just being discovered by many of the birds. The house finch, of course, are regular visitors and the goldfinch have been all over the thistle feeder, but I had yet to hear or see a chickadee until yesterday. He came to the feeder and initially seemed perplexed about how to stick his head in the feeder and steal a sunflower seed. But, he soon figured it all out and made several trips from the feeder back into the trees to crack open and eat his treasure.

I've always loved the chickadees and remember when I first saw one years and years ago. I thought they would be so pretty perched all over a Christmas tree trimmed in red bows! Their call is so very distinct, you can hear them over all other birds if you are listening. So glad to have you here little buddy. After all, feathered friends are welcome here on Chickadee Lane!

Missed my thinking time

With our moving and such, I let my walking sort of go by the wayside. I was on such a streak too. I had so many stars on my wall calendar where I had faithfully walked at least 3-4 days/week for six months. But, once the packing started, my last star was placed on July 13th.

Since we moved in here August 2nd, the basement has been sort of the last priority and I had not even connected the treadmill up to the power cord, or even unfolded it until this past weekend. Because we don't yet have heating and air run down there, it's been a bit humid, so I've been reluctant, and truthfully a bit too fatigued, to contemplate getting back on track with my walking especially in a space with no air conditioning.

But, as with all things good for us, that nudge kept niggling at me, and on the way home yesterday, Sam and I stopped at K-Mart for me to find myself a nice oscillating fan on a stand for $30. Once we got home, I put that sucker together and plugged it in, put on my shorts and sports bra, dug out the iPod, tuned into John Mellencamp, and hit the start button.

I can't tell you how good it felt to be walking again and realizing that I also missed it because it's my thinking time. I figured after so many weeks, I'd try to do maybe 30-35 minutes, but as the music and happiness moved me, I just kept right on walking and ended up doing my normal 3.5mph for an hour. Oh, how good it felt to hang that calendar up down there and give myself a lovely gold star!

Laugh until you cry

I apologize in advance to my dad, but because I am still snickering every time I think of this story, I had to share it.

Sam spent the night with his Nana and Papa Saturday night, and as usual, had a wonderful time. However, he awoke at 4AM and my dad noted he'd had "an accident." Well, in order for him to be able to climb back into the bed and sleep a bit longer, he took him into their bathroom to help him change into a pair of his own shorts and a t-shirt and to find a towel to put over the sheets. While in the bathroom, in the semi-darkness, they heard a rattling sound, and realized that his glasses had fallen off the counter. Sam started saying, "Uh-oh" and my dad retrieved them to check for damage and handed them to Sam. He immediately became upset as they were "crooked" and "had lines all over them." He began to tell my dad how upset mom would be that they'd broken his glasses. Well, my dad is furiously trying to clean them of the lines and help him get them back on his face in the dark, but Sam keeps wailing that they don't fit any longer and he can't see out of them. As my dad is telling me this story, I am thinking that I love our optical store which allows you to buy one pair, and get one free since I do have another pair at home. Finally, they were ready to get back to his room and into bed, when my dad noticed a pair of glasses beside the bed Sam sleeps in. Um.... (snicker, snicker).... seems the "broken" glasses were my mom's bifocals!!!! I laughed until tears were streaming down my face.

Thankfully, the "lines" are still on her glasses, and they are no worse for the wear. Sam, however, is simply relieved his glasses are no longer broken and those pesky lines are gone.

That neighborhood feeling

I find that I am really enjoying the sense of small community here in this neck of the woods. I have designated Saturday mornings as my time to go grocery shopping, and because we are early risers, I am usually there by 8:30-9AM. Yesterday, they had some really great music playing in the store, so there I was strolling with my buggy and singing along with Sheryl Crow as I reached for more coffee filters. There are very few people in the store at that hour, which is doubly lovely.

Once I was done, I got to the check out, and there was the same cashier I've seen for the past two weeks, and Zach, the same bag boy. She smiled and said, "So, are you all getting all settled in?" She remembered me from two weeks back because I had a huge order to ring up since I had not been to the store in two weeks in preparation for our move. I told her we were pretty much moved in, and that we're really enjoying being in the area. Then, I looked up as the front door opened, and in walked Lisa from the bakery/deli, who smiled and waved, then said, "Did Sam enjoy his cake?" I waved and smiled back and told her he most certainly did, that it was delicious and that he'd be devouring the last piece after lunch that day. The entire experience made me smile and realize just how much it means to be part of a small community.

Earlier this week at the bank, which is just adjacent to my Food Lion conveniently, the teller welcomed us to the area as well and thanked us for banking with them. We've moved our accounts to a smaller, local bank instead of Suntrust, and are already reaping the rewards of forming relationships with people who you get to know well. They are also the lender for our new mortgage and I've never felt so valued as a customer. It's just nice to be able to call someone by name and know that they remember you. Debbie, the mortgage officer who took care of us at another local branch, has already called to see if we're all settled in and to remind us that she's excited to see our pretty new house.

Yes, indeed, there is a huge sense of community here on Chickadee Lane. Just one more reason to be glad we're here.

Listening for clarity

The only thing I am missing on Chickadee Lane are the walking paths that so bathed my soul in Hilton Head. For when I took off each morning, there was something sacred about the walk in the trees which allowed me so much time to contemplate and listen.

Although I have "given notice to expect a notice" to my employer, I still have to figure out where I am meant to be next. And though I would like to continue wound care in some capacity, other opportunities seem to be whispering to me, namely hospice care. When I've mentioned to several people hospice is one of my considerations, they immediately have affirmed that "you'd be great at that." When I mentioned it to one of the hospitalists, she told me she'd even call Dr. R, who used to be one of our hospitalists, but is now a local hospice MD. On Friday, I saw Dr. P again, and she stopped me to tell me that she'd spoken to Dr. R and that she wanted her to give me her cell phone number and relayed that she said to "give her a call once I am ready to make a move." Well, now...

I am still putting out feelers to other people and avenues to see if anything else comes to light as an opportunity, and I really am spending time in prayer trying to listen carefully in order to know where I am to serve and reflect his love and peace into the world. Dying does not frighten me in the least bit. As a matter of fact, the thought of helping someone transition into that place is quite a sacred opportunity, and one that would reap plenty of personal satisfaction. In the meantime I am just going to be still and listen....

Growing up

I've often said that I have no clue what the future holds. I mean, there are times when I'll look at Sam and see his fascination for all things Thomas the Tank Engine, even at 14, and I really can't visualize what 20 or 25 will be like. But Tuesday, I had one of those days when I silently go, "Hmmm."

He was of course excited that it was his birthday, but he did not get overly anxious about waiting for Dad to get home from work, and for Nana and Papa to arrive for the festivities. Last week he went with me to pick out his birthday cake, and to tell the kind Lisa in the bakery at Food Lion that he wanted "turquoise" icing. I laughed, but she smiled and said, "Can do."

Once Nana and Papa were here, he proclaimed that we'd start by opening presents, then he stunned us all. He slowly picked up each and every card, opened them, and read them aloud before ever touching a present. He then opened his presents seeming to be more "present" than I can ever remember. He was thankful and verbalized his appreciation to everyone more than once. He was fine with the fact that he did not have a myriad of gifts to rip into. I saw glimpses of what I sometimes imagine the 25 year old man to be. We are growing up and new layers are emerging. It's been a good week.

Praying for no surgery

Back in 1999, I was having all kinds of numbness of my left hand. It progressed to the point where I could not even open my hand entirely without a deep, bone aching type of pain. I had no idea it was carpal tunnel syndrome until one of the plastic/hand surgeons in our clinic looked at it one day. I ended up having it injected with steroids and splinting it, but it was way past that intervention for healing, and so I underwent release of the carpal ligament. Because it was my left, non-dominant hand, the recovery was much easier as I could just not use it very much. I had the surgery on a Thursday and by Tuesday was back to light duty work wearing my splint. The relief I felt was instantaneous, and during the surgery, Dr. K kept commenting on how bad it was. He even sent tissue for culture because there was so much inflammation.

Fast forward to today. Over the past years, I've had some symptoms of it on my right hand, but they were always fleeting and easily relieved with some rest, splinting and ibuprofen. Well, due to this move and the job I do each day, it's gotten really bad over the past few weeks. I started splinting at night and taking some Naproxen twice a day to see if I could get it under control, but it has not been working. It goes numb as I am using my curling iron in the mornings, and even when I am charting at work, I have to put my pen down, and shake it out to get feeling back into my hand. I know the surgery is not that bad, but this is my dominant hand, and recovery would be much more difficult since I could not use it very much.

I went back to my wonderful chiropractor yesterday for the first time in weeks as we've been absorbed in getting moved. My entire right side was knotted up, and he thinks that some work on my brachial plexus area will certainly help with the irritation at my wrist. I'll do whatever I have to do, but I just so do not want to have to undergo any surgery on my right hand. I am paying for my overuse these last weeks, and now all I can do is pray that the irritation calms down.

Digging deeper

Over the past few days at work as I have been telling some people that I am leaving, I have been thinking a good bit about what tipped the balance for me. I have come to the conclusion that the biggest reason I feel I have to move on at this point is that I can no longer reconcile living in the place where I know how things should be and the reality of how things really are.

I am finding more and more that it's very difficult for me to accept that there are those people who will never do what they are supposed to do. There are those who will do as little as they can and get by to get a paycheck. There are those who are so stuck in their lives, that they won't leave to find something else to do (staying and complaining constantly is preferable), and it sucks the life out of those around them. If I could do what I do, and did not have to depend on others to do their parts as well, it would be different, but when I see that they don't, it's sort of like feeling as if you are putting out fires all day long, only to see them rekindle over and over again. I am feeling as if many times, I can only do what I can do, and it's not enough when everyone isn't on the same page.

Conversely, I find myself wondering how I became so self-righteous and judgmental of the job others do or don't do. Maybe some people are doing the best they can do. Maybe it's me who has a problem with setting such high standards. So much to contemplate. My way or the highway? I've always said that it is the reason why I can't be a manager. I can't stand the thought of managing those whose standards of care are so different from mine, and be sane. Meanwhile, I shall just keep digging...

Happy Birthday to our Sam

By the time we got to the hospital, it was almost already August 15th, and even though my water broke, my cervix had other plans. Seems my Sam was waaaaaay high up, and was quite enjoying himself in there, with no real urgency to head downward.

By 8AM, they started the Pitocin to help speed things along, and continued to increase the dose until I was having really horrid contractions almost every 3-4 minutes. Not comfortable at all. The doctor came in to check me, and pronounced, "Well, you're mostly thinned out but still only a fingertip dilated." Well, after almost eight long hours of this, with no sleep mind you as we had been up all night long, I looked at my OB and pleaded, "Please just cut this child out of me!"

And so, the drip stopped, the epidural went in, they wheeled me into the delivery room, and at 6PM, Sam was brought into our world, weighing 9 pounds, 3 ounces and screaming pink. Our baby boy had arrived. Today, that baby turns 14, and yet it seems like only a short while ago...

Happy Birthday to you, Sam. I am so proud that you are mine.

Fourteen years ago today...

I was miserable. I mean hugely, ready to burst miserable (and yes, that is actually ME in the photo weeks before at my baby shower). I was officially due August 7th, but I knew in my heart that was too early. I thought their calculations were off. I had been working home health in the heat of August and most homes were beyond hot. Finally, at the end of July, I could not take it any longer and started my maternity leave. I was hoping beyond hope I could rid myself of this sense of claustrophobia and the need to bring to life this being inside me. But alas, two weeks went by and he did not come.

It was a Friday morning, and I went to my OB who checked me and pronounced, "Your cervix is still as green as a gourd." They had decided that if I did not deliver over the weekend, they would induce me on Monday as it was clear I was carrying a very large boy on my 5'2" frame.

I went home that afternoon, and decided to walk. I got on the treadmill and watched Oprah as I walked a slow pace praying to get things moving before I had to be induced. That evening, we got into bed around 10PM and as I lay there trying to get comfortable, which was next to impossible, I felt my water break. Yahooo!!! So, just before midnight, we were on the way to the hospital. "Uh-uh-uh... not so fast," said Sam inside me. He was just not quite ready to leave yet...

OK, I'll admit it...

When we first looked at this house, I was not overly thrilled with the idea of having a pool to maintain. I loved the house, but was ambivalent about the pool. Husband was more excited about that aspect, and said he'd learn all there was to know about it and maintain it. And learn he did. He's doing a smashing job too.

I must go on record as saying that I have found that I am enjoying the pool immensely. At the end of the day, it's so lovely to jump in, grab a couple of noodles and float as the sky above does a cloud show. Yesterday, we were busy all day getting little things done. In the late afternoon, we went out to eat, and once back, I got all the bathrooms cleaned. Around 7PM, with a glass of Shiraz in hand, we headed out to the pool and it felt so good to relax and magically wash away the tiredness. Who needs Hilton Head? After eating, we had stopped by Best Buy and picked up some outdoor wireless speakers husband found on-line. So now, we can tune in XM off the satellite and have great music by the pool. Nirvana, I tell you, nirvana. He told me so, and now I'll freely admit it.

Change propels us forward

"Change is the essence of life. Be willing to surrender what you are, for what you could become."

Well, it's official. I have notified the VP for Nursing, who is a dear long-time friend, and my direct Acting Nurse Manager that they should be expecting a notice from me in the near future, and so they need to start looking for my replacement.

I do not leave with anger or bitterness, and I do not want to leave them in a bad spot, hence my "notice that a notice is forthcoming" in order for them to have time to find someone for this position. Though, my NM did encourage me to sit down with the powers that be and let them know exactly what my frustration has been so that they can address problem spots. I don't want to whine, I really don't. Part of my needing to leave is to further explore new options for myself, though certainly issues in a large institution do play into my decision to finally fly.

I have absolutely no clue at this point what I want to do, only that I don't want to do this in this setting any longer and the funny thing is, I feel such peace about it. I did not expect anyone to try and talk me out of it, or cajole me that things would be getting better, nor do I want them to. It's just time... time to fly... time to grow further and see what awaits me.

Check out this one girls...

Husband wasn't sure about the large red flower, but loved this one.

I do love these colors too...

Finished size is 44 x 44 on canvas too... perfect for that large space.

Decisions, decisions...

Sunrise on Chickadee Lane

I snapped this off the back deck yesterday morning... sunrise over the ridge behind Chickadee Lane. Breathtakingly lovely.

I've also started myself a Birds I've Seen At My Feeders list for Chickadee Lane as well. I purchased a connector for my feeder pole that allows me to hang four different feeders. Can't wait to see what variety of birds I entice to visit. So far, just doves, house finch, goldfinch, a white breasted nuthatch, and hummers. I am so happy here. Change is indeed a good thing. More change forthcoming...

Being thankful for trends

Today I am thankful that the trend continues to demonstrate that many people love not having to deal with shoe laces, even in men's shoes. Just slip them on, and go.

Sam has really never learned to tie his shoes well. Part of the reason is that he is left handed, and well... we are not. Ever try to model left handed shoe tying when you are right handed? Not effective, let me tell you. He can manage a bit, but never gets his bow very tight, and with all the other myriad of things he has to navigate on a daily basis, having to worry about untied shoes is not something he needs to focus on.

Yesterday I popped into Shoe Carnival to try and find him some new shoes for this year once long pants weather is upon us (which seems like a distant dream at this point in the 99 degree heat). Last year, we found a cool pair of black Skechers in a 7 1/2 and he loved them. The sandals he's worn all summer were a size 8, so I knew I'd better get at least an 8 1/2. But alas, they did not have the black ones any longer. Instead I found these really snappy brown ones they call Urbantrack-Palms.

I picked him up from school, and we headed to Food Lion so he could participate in ordering his birthday cake for his 14th birthday next Tuesday. Once we were home from school, he put them on and declared them "cool!" Now, my son's feet are officially bigger than his Papa's. My baby is certainly growing up.

Lurking in my garage

On Monday as I was taking the trash out to the street for pick-up, some movement on the floor caught my eye. Something was caught in a spider's web and was wiggling like crazy to be freed... but wait! Is that? Could that be? Surely not! But it was... a little scorpion.

Now, maybe I am naive, but I associate these creatures with drier, desert-type climates, and have never, ever seen one in north Georgia, but there he was, a scorpion, in my garage of all places. And, apparently we do have two varieties here in Georgia. I am hoping he had no relatives left behind. I'll have to introduce them to Glen, my pest control man. I love that I learn something new every day.

For Ginger and Beth

WOW! Check this out from artselect.com website! It even comes in a canvas and you can pick your type/color of frame ... lots of punch! Hmmm... might be great on that fireplace wall.

Contemplating new vistas

(New Vistas by Peggy Olsen)

Maybe it's because of our move, and the feelings that has brought up in me, but yesterday when I was at work, it became clear to me that I am tired of doing what I am doing. I think I sense a need for change in that area of my life as well.

I am tired of having two of us cover an entire 600 bed hospital. I am tired of feeling like I have to constantly repeat myself when lessons should already be learned. When a 90 year old gets admitted to the hospital, they should automatically be placed on a static air support mattress, but how many times does the staff need me to tell them that? I've tried to let the powers that be know that our hospital needs a system on admission which screens patients for the potential for skin breakdown so that preventive measures are instituted right then to prevent it, and not wait until I tell them they are needed. I am tired of my Achilles heel that does not allow me to leave anyone in a mess, no way, no how. Nope, I stay and clean them up, many times by myself, as I don't have the luxury of time to wait until someone can get free to help me. I am tired of playing tip-toe so that I don't intrude where my opinion is not wanted, even if some of the patient's physicians ask for my input. When there are too many cooks in the kitchen, the pot sometimes does not get stirred. I am tired of people just not doing a good job and the fact that I know they are not taking good care of their patients, yet they make the same wage as me, for there is no delineation between my skill level and theirs. I am tired of feeling unappreciated and taken for granted. I am just tired...

I do still want to impact the lives of others, and I will just have to contemplate in what way I might do that without taking too much of a hit on my paycheck, yet finding more peace at the end of the day. New vistas.... I need new vistas to go along with my new surroundings. Now I see more clearly, and I want more.

Get out of the boat

Yesterday at church in adult Christian education, we started a series based upon the book "If You Want to Walk on Water, You've Got to Get Out of the Boat" by John Ortberg. Catchy title. In the first segment, the author talks about how we all crave comfort and resign ourselves to our positions in the boat, but it's only when we risk getting out of the boat that we grow as human beings and that our faith deepens. Part of that risk is trusting the one who propels you to think of things differently and knowing that no matter what, it will be OK.

This was particular timely for me with this move, and I found myself sharing that with the group. We'd become stuck in the boat of "our life with autism" and had placed so many limitation on our existence. Taking the risk to leave that house, and the comfortable fortress it had become was important in our being able to move forward and grow. It's as if we've turned a new page, and we can now create a new story of our lives. My view in that boat had become quite mundane, and now I am filled with awe at the potential for new vistas ahead.

Another church member shared descriptions of all the boats in which she finds herself. As she finished, she said, with a wry smile, "I suppose I have a regular flotilla, don't I?" So, what boat are you in?

Just a few more boxes

I got my dining room put together yesterday, and am so glad that I took a photo of the china layout in husband's great-grandmother's china cabinet as I never would have fit it all back in there. I do not want to see or play with any more bubble wrap for a very, very long time. My hands are so dry from handling so many boxes, and I've lost more than one nail trying to get everything unpacked.

I also finished out our bedroom for the most part, though I do still have some things to hang on the walls and husband has to rearrange his closet in order to unload one last box in the room. Shhhh... don't say anything, but I think I definitely got the better closet. He took one look at it, saw the shoe racks and said, "Oh, this one must be yours." Fine with me!


The great room has come together nicely as well, though I've yet to attempt to hang anything on the walls in there. There is such a huge space above the fireplace that I have no idea what would look best. May just have to leave it open for a while until I decide how to accent that space. We are expecting delivery of a wine colored sectional later this month, and that might change the feel of the room as well, so I may just leave these walls empty for now.

It's such a sense of accomplishment that I've gotten all this done in a few short days. School starts tomorrow and it's back to the grind at the hospital as well, but I'll be encouraged by the fact that I have such a wonderful sanctuary to come home to.

Ta-da!!

I pounded that thing into the ground this morning with a sledgehammer and then had to file down the top so that the other pole would then fit over it. It's a wee bit crooked, but so be it. I walked inside to wash my hands, looked out the kitchen window, and there was already a goldfinch eating a late breakfast snack. Can't wait to see who else I'll entertain!

Just twist it...

I finally have trees behind my new house... big tall bird-filled trees. My window hummer feeder has already been visited numerous times by very happy campers, so I was determined to get up my seed feeders. At my other house, I had Bradford pears in the yard from which to hang them, but here I needed to get an extension pole to put into the ground for a shepherd's hook to hold the feeders. I stopped by the local birding store the other day to get the part that goes into the ground and the girl said, "Just twist this part into the ground and use the four pronged supports to go into the ground once you get the pole seated to give it better stability." Easy enough.

So, in temperatures hotter than Hades yesterday, I entered the back yard determined to put up my seed feeders. I even made a starter hole with the mattock, and then I commenced to twisting. I twisted with all my might and it kept getting stuck, so I'd have to grip harder and twist with more effort as it tried in vain to go through the Georgia clay. With sweat dripping off my nose and other nether regions, I noted my hands were burning. I took off my gloves to see this lovely vision of my left hand. "Please Lord," I prayed, "I am begging, do not let this turn into full-fledged blisters. I will admit to the world and everyone here my stubbornness regarding this apparent exercise in futility. I am obviously not a gifted twister, and if my hands go back to not hurting and without blisters, I swear I'll be a good girl from now on. Please?"

Thankfully this morning I only have one small blister the size of a pea on my left palm and 0ne the size of a petite pea on my right palm. Methinks we'll find where that sledgehammer is and put it to good use to pound that sucker into the clay and I will finally have my seed feeders out today.

Bathed in grace

(Sam in his "new" room)
Of course, one of the major things I lamented about our moving was how Sam would adjust. I could describe the ulcer type pains it could cause me knowing that his world for the past eight years was about to be turned upside down, but that would not do it adequate justice. For that very reason, we talked to him every step of the way when we decided to start looking for another home. Once we closed, we brought him over here almost every other day or so to help him feel more comfortable.

The night before the move, he spent the night with his Nana and Papa, and they thankfully suggested two nights might be even better so that we had time to put his room together enough so that he'd be less traumatized. So, as I started the process of unpacking his room on Thursday morning, I prayed. Not that he'd be fully OK with everything, but that I could be braced and ready for the onslaught of raw anxiety and emotion which surrounds big changes for him. All day long as we waited for the computer to be up and running and for the Directv guy to get things all hooked up, I prayed silently that I'd be able to help him calm down enough to see how wonderful it would be in the long run.

Finally, around 5:30pm yesterday, they pulled into the driveway with Sam. I took a deep breath, said another prayer, and was ready for the next day or so of full and total anxiousness. I told him as soon as he got out of the car that I had not unpacked everything as I wanted him to be able to put things where he wanted them. I could have tried to recreate how he'd had his trains and such, but knew it would not be right and that would cause him more anxiety than if they were just not out at all.

He walked into the house, went upstairs, explored, and.... and.... and.... smiled as he offered up big hugs and said, "I like the new house Mom. It's different, but I like it." Yes, indeed, I am bathed in grace at this very moment, and wiping away the tears. We are home. Sam is home, and all is well. Thanks to anyone else who was praying along with me.

The end reward

We're here and I am back. Oh how I have missed my blogging! I am bruised, battered, paper cut covered, with knees worn out, legs aching, and looking for adequate descriptors to describe "bone tired." Had we waited another five years to do this, I am almost sure we would have been able to talk ourselves out of it as it's been an odyssey to say the least. I am drowning in a sea of boxes and things strewn here and there, but we are here!!

After a 12 hour moving ordeal yesterday with four strapping men, I am fully convinced I will be responsible for more than one hernia repair in the future. I kept them plied with Gatorade on this, the hottest week of the year here in north Georgia, as I did not want to have to prove that I can do CPR. It was grueling and they worked so hard.

As their truck pulled away last night at 8:30 pm, husband and I did what we knew had to be done. We abandoned all unpacking, jumped into the pool, ordered pizza and ate it sitting right there on the pool steps with a beer. We are home indeed... now, where did I put my....