I confess: I totally made up more than one science fair set of data. It's too late to do anything about it now, Mr. Lindstrom!*

Because I am currently in a measuring cycle of illness (wherein the doctors want me to record everysinglepiece of information about my illness numerous times during the day, and I hate it, and then I forget, or I am too sick, or I am too sore, or I just do not care at all, and I am tempted to just fill in all the blanks the way you would if you forgot to do your science fair homework and needed to some extra research done), I am going to hit you with a by-the-numbers post:

• 17 - The number of prescription medications I am currently taking
•  2.5  - The approximate number I think are actually doing something, maybe? Who can tell?
• 0 of those are new drugs and 
• 2 of them are for breathing, so that's good, anyways.

• 86 - My average resting heart rate for the past month
• 139 - My average standing (or post-standing) heart rate for the past month - That's just standing: God forbid I try and do anything over that because then
• 175 - My average "I attempted to also stand for longer than it took for the pulse ox to read my pulse" rate for the last month 

• 1 - Number of times I have left the house since the calendar read March
• 0 - Number of times I have left the house since the calendar read March that were not doctors' appointments  

• 3 - How many different strengths of antibiotics it took to kick this last sinus infection, probably because of
• 5 - The number of sinus infections I have had to treat since Christmas

• 17 - Books I've read in the past week
• 1 - Books I've written a review of for Cannonball Reads in the past week
• 0 - Reviews I've actually posted on Cannonball Reads in the past week
•  17,000 - Number of excuses I've given to myself for not writing/posting any of the others

• 14  - Number of people who have promised to come over/said "we should come over"/attempted to/said they would like to see me since the New Year
• 4 - Number of people who have actually come over (and one of them is an infant, and the other a husband, so neither of them had much say in the matter)

• 2 - Number of times I've watched the Veronica Mars movie already (Yay Kickstarter! Yay for getting first run movies delivered to your computer! Boo to computers freezing at P I V I T O L moments in the movie! (If you have seen it, think 'cars', fellow Marshmallows, and you will understand why I was so unhappy.) 
•  1.5 - Number of days it took me to watch all 3 seasons of VM on Amazon Prime in preperation for the movie 

• 6 - Number of draft posts I have written since I've published a post here, all incomplete
• 5 - Number of Tumblr posts I have published for the whatshouldwecallfibro.tumblr.com I am a co-admin of, in the same space of time (because giffing is easier than writing, people)
• (Currently most popular, by the way: For all of you chronically ill Whovians out there)

• 63 million (approx.) - Number of times I have wanted to throw the computer and it's stupid Excel spreadsheet of numbers out the window since I have been symptom tracking
• 3 - Different websites I signed up for because I thought they would help with the symptom tracking, only to bail because it was easier to Excel it myself 

• 2 - Separate weeks my dad has been on vacation already this year, and I have been stuck in the house with him
• 0 - Clues that he has that there is anything 'off' in our 'relationship' even though I have spent the better part of 
• 2 - Separate weeks ignoring him as much as possible (When I had the sinus infection it was 0% possible, because I could not even find the kitchen, let alone make food.) 
 

• 39 - Average number of hours a week my mom has been working at the retirement home for the past month
• 100% - How exhausted this is making her & how much it sucks to still be the one who can't work, even though I'm 
• 200% proud of her for kicking ass and doing so awesome (The old people love her, of course: They all request her and one woman told her she was an "angel on earth." But it's also seriously depressing, and even the stories she comes home with bring up all sorts of Grandmother-y related feels for me, so I know how tough it is on her.)

• 16 - Other things I've got on my to-do list for tonight
• 2 - Realistic count of how many of those things I might accomplish (eat/shower)
• 0 - Cares I give that my to-do list will be carrying over to tomorrow
• 100% - Realization that I should rename the to-do list the "Carried over from before" list, because it's more honest.

And finally:

• 6:00 - The time, and that means more numbers to mark, more foods to eat, more pills to take, more things to cross of the list. 

*And I usually NEVER cheated, but ... I'm not going to watch this stupid thing for three months: I'm going to put it together a few weeks ahead of time - IF you're lucky.  My brother and sisters were all "do it the night-before-ers", so I think me occasionally fudging the data on whether or not cats and dogs are right and left pawed is not, so much, the end of the world.

Well worth applauding, I'd say

Last week, I turned 32. Those numbers still don't seem real, in relation to me, but I'm working on it. I'm thinking of throwing myself a big party next year, for thirty three, but I'm pretty sure that's another one of those things that sounds better in your head then it winds up being in actuality (you know, like pretty much every big party ever?), so for now it's just a 'thinking of'. I'm trying to be honest when I say that there were a lot of times I didn't think that 32 was a year that would apply to me - I mean, sure, when I was a little kid, thirty whatever seemed like "Ok, when I'm 3X I'll be a grown-up" and I had some vague notions of where I'd be and what kind of life I'd be living (read: nowhere near the life I am actually living right now). But in the past 10 years or so, as my diseases have taken more and more of who I thought I was, and presented me with a whole new set of challenges to face, there were more times than I'd care to admit that my thirties seemed to be a goal that I might not make.

And yet, here I am, two years into them. Still facing all sorts of challenges, still not where I'd hoped to be, but Still Here. Which is the most important part, when it comes right down to it.

For my 32nd birthday, I spent the day at my niece's first dance recital, which is - for me - a huge deal. Because I was a dancer for 13 years, and an assistant instructor for three years, and this is the first recital I've ever been strictly an audience member for. (Well, that's not actually true, I'd just rather forget about my other experience as a member of the audience: the year after I got sick, the year I had to quit dancing, I went to my former school's recital and tried to watch the show. I felt heartbroken, sitting there, barely able to walk unaided anymore, watching all my former friends dance the solos I would've danced and receive awards I would never receive and between holding back my jealous tears and the loudness of the music, I wound up with a migraine that left me incapacitated for the next three days. It was not a pleasant experience.) But this time it was different: I was there to enjoy myself, to cheer for Lil Girl, to clap at all the steps I knew were hard, even if they didn't look tricky.

Lil Girl did great - she had a big smile the whole time, she and I talked about being the tent-pole (the tallest dancer, middle of the line) and how it means you have to hold your pose the longest while you're waiting for the curtain to close, and we both watched the older girls dances with glee, so I hope this will be just the first of many recitals of hers I'll be willingly sitting in the audience for.

I also got to re-choreograph numbers in my head, and move things along at a better pace, and basically pretend it was my dance school's program, and how I'd make it better. (One of those vague things I thought I'd be doing in my thirties, if you'd asked me twenty years ago was operating a dancing school with my sister(s), just another one of those dreams that got put up on a high shelf a lot of years ago). Remembering years worth of selling wrapping paper and window clings and random candy bars in order to pay our way into competitions, I bought raffle tickets from the dance company girls, and won a basket full of coffee & other things I don't drink and quickly divvied it up between family members. I took pictures that came out blurry because you can't use your flash, and I remembered just how invisible the crowd seems from the stage when the lights are blazing in your eyes. And although I missed out on the post-show Chinese food, a tradition that even my brother remembered fondly ("Remembered? It was the only part of the whole thing I had to look forward to" was his response), I still enjoyed it very much.

It was a great way to celebrate a day I wasn't sure I'd make it to, and I'm still not sure I know how to deal with (numbers don't really matter so much, sometimes. Until they do. And when you're thinking of how much you want to be a mom, those numbers are all of the sudden much more important than they ever were before). And while all my brother could talk about (on the times that his little angel wasn't on stage, that is) was how much of a rip-off it was that the tickets cost $15 a piece and the costume was $65 and all some of the kids were doing up there was "playing ring a round the Rosie", I remembered how much fun it was to be the teacher in the wings, while the three-year-olds you'd been teaching for nine months, and you were sure weren't going to anything approaching an actual dance step, finally figured out how to link hands and make a circle. And, ignoring his statement that "clapping only makes it go on longer" , I applauded as much as I felt like it.

Here's one of the less blurry shots of our tent-pole girl, in all her glory:

It’s your own sweet self with whom you must rendezvous.*

I spent a lot of time yesterday making lists. Making lists is one of my specialties; I can make a list for any occasion, discussion, event or job - and often do. Yesterday's lists wound up being twelve pages worth of flowcharts and sub-sections, due dates and color-coded keys.

The reason I started making the lists was that I was feeling completely overwhelmed: No matter what I went to do - everything from putting my clothes away to finishing up scrapbook pages had an additional twelve steps that needed to get done before I could even attempt it. Something as seemingly simple as sewing a button onto my winter coat began an unending domino effect of "find the damn needles and thread -> which are still in a box in the cellar somewhere -> I have to get down cellar to go through the boxes till I can find it, but there's snow outside and I have to go outside to get down cellar, which means I can't get downstairs -> so instead just ask someone else to look for the boxes -> but everyone else is doing their own thing already, so now I have to wait for them to have time -> now they are in the cellar, but they can't find the sewing box with the black thread, will pink work -> decide whether or not pink will work on my black wool coat -> Figure that it's not worth it, and continue to go around with an unbuttonable coat in freezing temperatures."

It was all kinds of ridiculous.

So I sat down and started making very detailed lists of all the things that need to happen, according to my full-to-the-brim brain box, relatively soon. Some of the goals were pretty simple, like Stitch the Names on the Christmas Stockings which I have been promising to do for the past three years, but forget as soon as the stockings get packed away with all the other Christmas stuff. This year, I put them in my craft pile, AND they are on my list, so they at least have a shot at getting done. Other simpler tasks include the aforementioned Button Sewing, Putting Pictures on a Camera Card for my mom's digital frame, Hanging up my 2011 Calendar (only 18 days or so late!), and finally get somebody to help me Arrange the Top Shelves of the Bookcases in the Library.

Other goals were more abstract like Have a Comfortable, Usable Bedroom and Be a Better Friend/Family Member, which includes steps like "setting a reminder to make weekly phone calls to people" (because I hate making phone calls, but don't mind it once I'm on the actual phone), and "finally respond to e-mails from three weeks ago". And still other goals are 1000 stepped behemoths that begin with things like "set aside a few hours a week" and end, forty-five arrow lengths later at An Uncluttered and Sensibly Organized Storage Area In The Cellar or Finally Stop Living Out of Boxes .

There are goals that I have to physically do (Call and Make Appointments with Lynne, Zack, and Neurologist ) and goals that rely more on me finally making decisions ( Start Taking New Prescriptions or Call and Say You Don't Want To ). There are goals that have a lot of steps missing, because I am not sure of how to fill them in, most importantly Feel Better and Have Less Pain, but even with out all the intermediate steps, I have starting points for most of these things, something to do or decide or think about that will help me make the next steps.

I didn't realize until I was about 3/4 (and 3 hours) into the process that some of these goals seemed an awful lot like what could be considered New Years Resolutions, even though that certainly was not my goal. Maybe it was the time of year that had so much busyness buzzing around in my brain, but I just needed to get some of it down on paper, get some of it in a place where I could say "Ok, I know that needs to get done, so now I can stop worrying about forgetting it, or never getting to it: It's there, and I'll get to it when I can, one step at a time." And as I was writing the list, and breaking these huge all-encompassing objectives down into their smallest pieces, it made me realize that there were things that I could actually be doing to help me achieve these things. I wouldn't say it made everything less overwhelming (because, hello: please see 12 pages of color-coded lists ), but it certainly made a lot of the stuff seem more doable.

I can't Get all of Last Year's Pictures into Photo Albums today, but I can "label and date a few packages", or "figure out where the extra albums are living". I'm not going to immediately Make Money Selling Extra Stuff , but I can constantly be "weeding out boxes into four piles: Keep Trash Donate and Sell" as I go through them.

And yes, this is not a revolutionary new system of achieving goals that I have created (because if it was, I would please to like my genius check now, thank you), but the same advice those "experts" on tv or in magazines have been giving since they became experts - Break things into managable chunks, or you won't bother doing them. It supposedly works for losing weight, for being organized, for "living the life you deserve," for whatever. I don't know how well it will work for me, in the long run, because I just made my damn lists yesterday, but I will say that it's helped me to think about where I want to wind up, and what kinds of things I can do NOW to help me get there, eventually, someday.

And if there were more blank spaces on the charts then I would have liked (for example, between "talk to Zack" and "start taking wonder drug that fixes everything"), then those are just a part of life - and especially a part of living with chronic illnesses - and I can deal with them when I get there. It's the knowing that I'm in charge of something even if it is as small as "write records request form for Specialist X", that gives me hope, and a sense of control. I might not have any choices about some of the things I have to deal with (hello: Hives; Parents who drink to excess; Living in a house with stairs), but there are still some choices that are only mine to make, and that feels - if totally overwhelming - still pretty damn good.

*Last week's Dear Sugar column

Checking it twice...

I have found the most amazing advice columnist ever, and gone back and read every single one of her columns. She is wise and sweet, and witty and sharp, and her pointed corners are covered in that nice fabric/foam stuff so they don't poke you too hard. She's reasonable and realistic; her commenters are (for the most part) also wonderful and present and fabulous; and she's not the least bit shy.

I want her to be my very best friend, but in lieu of that, I'm just glomming all her advice, and I thought I'd share one of my very favorite bits here:

In response to someone who was wondering what to do with their life, and lamenting the overwhelmingness of choices and forever and ... the whole wide world being out there, she suggested:

Option 3: Stop asking yourself what you want, what you desire, what interests you. Ask yourself instead: What has been given to me? Ask: What do I have to give back? Make a list. Make the list very long. Then give it, my addled friend. Give it.

I'm definitely going to be working on my list: it'll be nice to focus on the things I have, for a change, instead of things that I'm lacking.

In which I ramble (again) ...

I know my posting these past few weeks has been lean - and it will probably get leaner still, should I have to have that damn surgery - but, fear not; I have not been sitting around wasting time. (Or, more accurately, I have not just been sitting around wasting time, since I did, in fact play more than my fair share of Bewjewled Blast on Facebook.)

No, I've been thinking. And plotting. And researching. Oh my heavens, with the researching.... Here are some things I have done, based on my research:

- I attempted to repair my laptop my own damn self: After reading a lot of blog posts and watching a video or two, I came up with the smart idea that the problem was the LCD inverter. So I tracked one down on E-bay, unscrewed my screen, and hooked the new inverter to the rest of the screen. Unfortunately, it was not the problem. This is unfortunate because A) that part only cost me $10 and fixing the damn computer for $10 would have been awesome, B) the part that is actually broken is most likely the LCD backlight, which is a little more expensive (ok, 10x more expensive), and that sucks, and C) not fixing the damn laptop means that I still have to steal mom's netbook. On the plus side, however - I took apart (and put back together) a computer screen solo. This is no small accomplishment for a girl who failed a Lego class.

- I have learned a little bit more about Macs, and using Photoshop with Macs (or even Windows with Mac, if necessary), and now only need to get my butt to the store to see what size will fit me best. (I have tried to have this size conversation with three people in the past week or so, and NO MATTER WHICH WAY I try to say it, it always ends up in a "That's what she said" type of comment. There is no avoiding it - if you're talking about size, TWSS will naturally appear.)

- I have found a new book series that I think (no longer) Youngest Nephew would like to read, and have started reading it myself.

- I may have found about 27 new books for me to read. And PBS-ed them. And read a few of them.

- I have found a couple of fun things for us to do this summer (hopefully).

- I have realized that I have a real issue with eating, and I'm working on it. (Awesome new-to-me resource: Did you know eating is not actually supposed to be a chore? Somewhere around the time that my meds killed my appetite, food and I started to have a very complicated relationship. I'm excited to think that can change, even though I can't afford the sessions she offers, just reading her blog has been so worthwhile for me.)

- I have scared myself out of sinus surgery. Twice. And scared myself back into it twice as well. Needless to say, I am very confused about this damn surgery, and am retroactively glad that my appendix decided to twist itself up in such a way that decision making was unnecessary: The only thing I thought that day was "Holy hell, did I just throw up blood??"

- I am trying to be kind to myself while I waffle over this decision, but I feel stupid, and inadequate, and ridiculous. No one has actually said anything mean to me about it, but I feel horribly judged - if I decide against the surgery (because it is painful, and because I don't heal well (no matter what the doctor tells me is "normal" healing), and because I petrified that this will make things worse instead of better, and because I don't know if I can handle that), I will never know if this is the thing that could have made me better. I will always wonder "what if". Maybe the people around me will wonder "what if" too, and judge me and think that I don't want to get better, because I don't want to do this one thing. If I do have the surgery (because it might actually solve a real problem, and because the doctors think it's my best bet to ward of the ever-present infections), then my face might get messed up. And - although I do not, generally, consider myself to be a particularly vain person - it is my face. And my sinuses might wind up worse than they are now, which would leave me worse than I am now. Or I might not heal right, because I never have before. And on and on and on.

- I have given myself permission to feel stupid and call and ask the doctor for another consultation, because I did not understand everything he told me that first day. That first day, it was all hypothetical and "then we do this" and "ten days later, good as new." Now, it is My Face, and My Body, and My Nose that you are going to be shoving a hammer up. Now, it's "Why should I do this? What are the real benefits?" and "How do I take my medications for 10 days if I can't swallow things?" So, yeah: I think I need more than 6 minutes of your time. And I'm sorry if that inconveniences you. (I think I am spoiled by Zach, who sat with me for 45 minutes on Friday - during a completely unrelated visit - and said things like "Don't do it if you're not ready" and "You have to realize that doctor's only know what they know - you know you." )

- I have finally posted something on my blog again - with words and thoughts and everything!

"New Classics"

Best TV shows of the past 25 years (1983-2008): I watched 83 out of 100, and have heard of all 100. I never watched The X-Files or Star Trek TNG, but I sometimes meant to.

As for movies , I've seen 54 out of 100 : a few of my biggest misses are The Matrix, South Park, and The Blair Witch Project, all products of 1990's trends that I totally skipped out on (shaky cameras are not good for vertigo sufferers, FYI); and there were a couple of 'in my Netflix/when I get around to it' contenders, including Glory, Broadcast News, and The Piano.

I knew going into it, I should've just skipped over the Music list, but I'm a glutton for punishment. My musical taste, while eclectic, is not exactly in fashion: I don't like most rap, I know all the words to a lot of showtunes and stage musicals, and my Real Player includes genres such as a capella, cover songs, 1920s, and power ballads. I surprised myself by knowing (and/or owning pieces from) 5 of the top 10, but when it came down to it, really only knew 26 out of the top 100.

What about books, you might ask. I read a lot. You all know this. Once, a local librarian saw me coming and said to her co-worker "I'm going on lunch before this one comes in with her neverending stack." Since I have discovered PaperbackSwap, I've logged less library time (but more post office time), and saved over $2000 that I would've spent if I'd been buying books at a store. Still, though, usually what people call "Classics" and what I consider "Must Reads" are very different. So how did I make out on the book list? My lowest ratio yet: just 14 out of the 100. BUT a lot of these books are already in my TBR list, and a few of them I started to read and just couldn't make it through (I'm looking at you A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius. Ha!)

Some random thoughts

and quotes, just to give you a sense of how my weekend's going.

"I will never be the woman with the perfect hair, who can wear white and not spill on it."

Sex and the City.

via Quotebook

:Sigh: Not having the easiest time finding a dress that fits me in a reasonable way, and having found one that I think works, I now have to search for shoes. Wicked excited about that, if you couldn't tell. Am focusing on how happy my friend is, how wonderful it will be to see her get married, and how, really, ain't nobody going to be paying attention to me.

"If you're going to find out who you'll become, you need space in your life for who you are, rather than storing reminders of who you thought you were going to be." Dr. Wende

I'm finding that unpacking and moving in are not just physical actions, there's a lot of mental work involved as well. Giving up some things, holding on to others, deciding which is which is difficult work, and so I spend a lot of time thinking "I should be doing X" and instead checking my Google Reader. Which isn't to say I haven't accomplished somethings:

Going through my pharmacological supply and realizing that I've taken over 100 kinds of pills that have done zero, zip, nada for me? Hard. Throwing them away? Easy.

Seeing some of the stuff I've set aside in my hope chest (which was never really about getting married for me, but more about having a family), and realizing that I'm still hoping? Still on hold when it comes to those dreams? Hard. So, so hard. Still imagining the little bald babies (in my family, there are only bald babies) that might someday be wearing these things? Very, very easy.

Realizing that things I played with, or wore, or that we had around the house when I was a kid are now considered 'vintage'? Not exactly hard, but kind of ridiculous feeling, just the same. Realizing that I can take advantage of this and label things as 'vintage' when we list them on e-bay, etsy or craigslist? Awesome.

"It does not take much strength to do things, but it requires great strength to decide on what to do." Elbert Hubbard

I am also, as always, caught up in the middle of various family issues. A baby shower and who should plan it. Parents who need to quit smoking, but just can't seem to. (And, my inability to just FORCE them to, which shows me just how much of a control freak I can be.) A sister who doesn't understand that texting and driving (or drinking "so long as I'm not drunk" and driving. or 3 in the morning combined with either or both of these things and driving) is not just stupid and dangerous, but hypocritical of her. (This is one of those things I "just don't understand" because I don't drive or drink - she "knows her limits and isn't stupid enough to drive if she's too tired/drunk/distracted." Seriously? I tried to explain that NOBODY thinks they're too drunk/tired/distracted, and yet people are still dying/killing other people. I had to leave the room before one of us wound up punching the other.) A nephew who needs his parents to pay attention to him, and can't seem to get their attention in any positive way. A brother who's blind to all he's got, reckless with his own life, & careless with the lives of those he's supposed to be caring for. A grandmother who's isolated again, now that I'm not there, and UJ is painting their porch, but doesn't want to come over because "it's such a bother" to us. (Head -> desk. NOT A BOTHER! Also, it's Grandparent's Day, and you are my one surviving grandparent... please let me be bothered!)

All of that stuff is buzzing around, and there's so much of it that I often feel like a radio that can't tune into just one station - there's too much static, too much fuzz, and there's always some other faint voice playing over the specific thing you're trying to hear. And then there's how I feel which can not just cover up the sounds I'm listening for, but break in with it's on emergency alert tone if that's what it takes to get me to listen to it. It makes for a muddle, sometimes.

I keep practicing my breathing, though, in the hopes that I can sometimes settle on just the one thing: the hard part is figuring out which is the right thing. And not feeling horrible at the million or so other things that get left out, hoping that you're getting to the stuff that really matters, and that the stuff you're letting go can figure itself out without your help.

(And that makes it seem like I think I am the center of the universe, which I really don't. I just find it hard to figure out where to put my energy sometimes, and find it impossible to just not worry about the things I don't get to.)

Anyways...

Have a nice, deep breathing picture to help you through your day... I hope you all are doing well today.
via MissWallFlower

On the front porch with you...

Some of the things that I've learned at Grandmother's house -

- Having somebody tell you "I don't think I've ever told anybody that before" is a priceless gift.

- Sometimes paper and pen is the way to go...
- But good luck finding a working pen.

- Progress can be a four-letter word.

- The importance of knowing the day of the week &/or the date can be highly overrated.

- I could do the laundry/make the coffee/bake cookies at home, if things were set up in a way that allowed me to do them. (Social model of disability, anyone?)

- There is no occasion that doesn't call for tea.

- Worrying is a hereditary trait.
- So is fainting.
- And stubbornness.


- Although it is totally politically incorrect, and I realize it is not my place to decide what a group of people to which I do not belong prefer to be called, I think 'colored' sounds a lot nicer, and a lot more accurate, than 'black.' Of course, my father, the first time he saw a black person on a city bus, (probably around 4 years old) called her a "chocolate lady", which also sounds rather nice.

- Cheesecake at 3 in the morning isn't just something you see on TV.

- Letting the phone ring less than 5 or more than 10 times should be a punishable crime.

- Just because there's no fire doesn't mean the electric stove isn't on. AKA Electric stoves are much more tricksy than gas stoves.

- Some people still care what the neighbors will say.
- I am trying hard not to be one of those people.

- It is ridiculously easy to fall out of the 'loop,' and sometimes you don't even care.

- I am very suceptable to other people's speech patterns. Yes ma'am, I am.

- Sometimes a phone call is a lifeline.

- So is something as simple as a postcard.

- Even bad memories are important to share.
- And yet, sometimes keeping something to yourself is a true kindness.

- Make the effort - as much as you can, as often as you can.

- No one needs to watch the news 4 times a day. No one.

- I know that mugs are tougher and more accessible, but I miss the teacups. Drinking from a teacup makes the day that much more special.

- You do not need to be in the same room as the TV to 'watch' it.

- Having to depend upon people to do things for you, especially if you used to be able to do those things for yourself, does not get any easier, no matter your age.

- Asking for help is hard, especially when you have to keep asking: be a good advocate for yourself - and for others - remind people of what's necessary.

- Speak louder. Slower. And make sure it's worth repeating before you open your mouth.

- Even the most devout have doubts.

- Everybody needs somebody who can reach the top shelf.

- There's always going to be a to-do list. It's ok if it becomes a to-do later list.

- Everyone is susceptible to a little girl with ringlet curls, a big smile, and a million questions.

- It doesn't matter what the calendar says: If you're cold, turn on the heat. Even if you had the air conditioner on yesterday.

- There should always be a blanket and a pillow readily available.

- Drop ins are welcome, even if they've interrupted your nap. Or a good book. Try to remember how lonely you were before they dropped in.

- If you've willingly pre-paid your funeral expenses, but balk at getting an expensive, digital hearing aid that will greatly improve the quality of your life, your priorities need adjusting.

- Write things down as soon as you can, because you WILL forget the details.

- It's ok to be in the room by yourself. But be there.

- There's always going to be somebody else who wants to do it their way. Let them, sometimes. Other times, don't.

- Regrets for other people - for the things they've messed up or missed out on - can be stronger than any regrets you have for yourself.

- Even a good show gets stale quick, if you're watching the reruns three times a day.

- Having eclectic taste in music is a real bonus.
- So is a mastery of YouTube.

- When there's nothing good on, just shut the damn thing off.

- It would be nice if the UPS truck stopped here sometimes.

- Some stories will never get old - and some should never be repeated.

- There's always going to be something you don't know.

5 worst

It's Phone it In Friday over at the Collective, and so I'm offering this list of 5 worst:

5 worst things your almost 3-year-old niece could be doing while you think she's napping (*as experienced by me in the past few months)

5) Climbing out of the playpen/off of the bed to creep over to the french door, where she will stand and stare at you unblinkingly

4) Playing with (thanks be to god, empty & still closed) prescription medication bottles

3) Eating your chapstick

2) Coloring in her belly button, hands, arms & legs (and your pillowcase. And your sheets) with a fountain pen & then falling asleep on top of the fountain pen so that it leaks all over whatever area was miraculously uncolored

and the number one thing my your niece could be doing while you think she is innocently napping?

1) Pooping. Then playing with the poop. Then wiping it on your face.


(Today was #2. I alternately wanted to laugh, fume, and take photographs. I did none of those things ... at least in her presence.)