tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37215349166149259092024-03-13T09:45:10.214-07:00Planet JodiObservations about life here on planet earth, as seen from planet jodi.Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.comBlogger27125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-22079204253688343152020-05-02T06:55:00.000-07:002020-05-02T07:19:13.960-07:00Musings from my Couch during a Pandemic<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">If variety is the spice of life, we are all living some bland lives right now. No wonder people are </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">l</span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">osing it. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Seriously, humans are built to crave new experiences. We all have the need for adventure, </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">however </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">small those adventures may be. This innate curiosity and drive to explore is what has</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;"> led to some of the </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">greatest discoveries of mankind.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">It doesn’t help us much in our current circumstances, though.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">For some people, the Pandemic itself was novelty enough...at least at first. Our daily lives</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> were </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">interrupted. We had to stock up on necessities and plan for a lasting isolation and people </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">got right on</span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;"> board with that. There were shortages of toilet paper and hand sanitizer as </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">everyone flocked to the </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">grocery stores to make sure they had enough.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Then there was the mask-making. Anyone who could sew had a job and a purpose. Skills that </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">had </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">seemed undervalued just a short time ago were suddenly needed, as were all those </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">fabric scraps no</span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;"> one knew what to do with.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Many people suddenly found themselves out of work, maybe for the first time in their lives. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">All those </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">projects that had been put on the back burner because there was never time to </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">get to them finally could </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">be done.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Still others found themselves learning to be teachers to their children, struggling to keep their kids </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">f</span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">ocused and to help them understand math that had changed considerably since the new </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">teachers had </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">been students.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">For those workers deemed essential, some are fortunate to be able to work from home (like me) </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">while </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">others are forced to put themselves in a potentially dangerous situation every day just to </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">earn a </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">paycheck. Either way, there’s not much in the way of entertainment to be had </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">at the end of the day.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">No matter what your circumstances, I think it’s safe to say the novelty has worn off. People are </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">bored </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">with the monotony of Pandemic life, and boredom is a very dangerous thing to humans.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">There is an old adage that idle hands are the devil’s playthings. There is a reason for that.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Humans don’t do well when every day looks much like the one before it. We need something</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> to look </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">forward to. We need something different to happen. And just as children will act out</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;"> and behave badly </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">to get attention, adults will often make poor decisions just to change things up.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">If you’ve ever read a book by Chuck Palahniuk, you know what I’m talking about.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Everyone is bored. Everyone’s life has been upturned. Everyone has been inconvenienced in some </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">way. We all have different levels of tolerance for disappointment and boredom, just as we all have </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">different ways of coping with the anxiety and fear that comes along with all of this.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">If you are feeling the need to run, screaming and maskless, into a crowd of people...you are not alone. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">You are not crazy. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Humans are programmed to act. When there is a problem, we go out and look for a solution. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> We do something to fix the problem. We improvise. We learn. We create.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">We are now being asked to sit and wait. To be patient. To do nothing. On the surface, this </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">sounds easy. Just sit there. Watch TV. Read a book. Go for a walk. What could be simpler?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">As it turns out, it’s not that easy.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">It goes against human nature to do nothing, especially in the face of danger, and right now there is </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">danger all around us. Danger of getting sick, or of losing loved ones. Danger of not being able to pay </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">bills and support ourselves. Danger of losing the things we have spent a lifetime building.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">It’s natural to panic. It’s natural to try to make something happen, to grasp at solutions and</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> even to leap</span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;"> in the wrong direction like a squirrel zig-zagging across a highway. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">But don’t be the squirrel. Don’t end</span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;"> up splattered on the pavement.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Take a deep breath. Remind yourself that this too shall pass.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I could give you a list of creative ways to pass the time, but I’m sure you’ve come up with your own </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">ideas and possibly run out and started over two or three times by now. I’m not here to preach, just to </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">remind you that sometimes what is in our nature does not serve our best interest. We will get through </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">this.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">And here’s what I’ve got planned for today: </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">1. Do a little writing. -Check that off my list. Whew!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">2. Charge my earbuds so I can go for a walk. -Charging as I write. This is great! </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Look at me doing stuff!</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">3. Listen to the birds. - I have the sliding door open even though it’s chilly out. I love just sitting</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"> in the </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">quiet and listening to the birds. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">4. Make some masks. Masks will be part of our fashion for a while now, so I may as well </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">make myself </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">some fun ones. Maybe I’ll even do a fashion show for my Facebook friends when</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;"> I get them done. </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">Maybe my Facebook friends will do it, too. That would be fun, if we all had </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">little fashion shows from </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">our own homes, like when we were kids and would play dress-up and </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">march out in the living room for </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">our parents to admire our newest creations…</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">5. Make a top secret project that I want to give to someone as a gift but I don’t know if I can pull it </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">off or</span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;"> not so I don’t want to say anything about it yet...but it’s rattling around in my brain.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">6. Go for a walk. My ankle is still unstable and I really want to hike this summer. I need to start </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">moving.</span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;"> Period.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">7. Make bread. To be honest, I say this to myself every day and then don’t do it. I love homemade </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">bread but I am lazy.</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">8. Read. I read Wool by Hugh Howey recently and I really liked it so I bought Shift, the next </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">book in the</span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;"> series, but I haven’t had a chance to read much of it yet. Hoping to get into it more </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">this weekend.</span></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">9. Scour Facebook for funny memes to share with my friends. Let’s face it. This is what I </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">waste most</span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;"> of my time doing.</span></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">10. Try to get pictures of the birds in my backyard. Why are the Robins the only ones </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">willing to pose? </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;"> And why am I so disinterested in Robins?</span></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">11. Write and illustrate a children’s book. My friend Anthony LaFauci just did it and his </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">version of the </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">Three Little Pigs is available on Amazon. It’s really well done. You should buy it.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;"> I’ve had an original </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">children’s book idea rattling around in my brain for literally years and</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;"> haven’t done anything with it. </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">Now he has inspired me and maybe I will finally get around</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;"> to doing it.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">12. Edit some of my friend Lee Gooden’s writing that he sent to me about 100 years ago </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">that I haven’t</span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;"> gotten around to doing yet. It’s still at the top of my unread emails, mocking me, </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">making me feel </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">increasingly guilty every time I delete all my spam emails and see his name </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">in bold...lurking...staring </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">me down…</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">13. Edit some pictures for my dad.</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">14. Edit some pictures for my Planet Jodi page and load up next week’s posts. If you aren’t </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">following </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">Planet Jodi yet, why not? I like it when people like my photography. Is that so </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">wrong? I’m kinda like </span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">Tinkerbell like that. I just need a little encouragement sometimes.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;">Besides, it gives me an excuse to</span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;"> relive some of my favorite travel memories.</span></div>
</div>
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">15. Plan all the vacations I will take someday in the future when we can all travel freely again. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I love</span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;"> making travel plans and there are still a lot of places in the world I need to see!</span></div>
</div>
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">I’m sure I won’t do most of these things and that I will do a lot of nothing, but you never know. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Today</span><span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre;"> could be the day!</span></div>
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><b style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></b>
</span><br />
<div dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">Whatever you choose to do with your day, be safe and make good choices so we can all enjoy </span><br />
<span style="background-color: black; color: white; font-family: "arial"; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;">tomorrow together!</span></div>
<span style="background-color: black; color: white;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: white;"><br /></span>
Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-80951016668950592892020-03-22T10:18:00.000-07:002020-03-22T10:18:04.082-07:00
<br />
Pan(dem)ic<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I go for a walk<br />
<br />
Trying to clear my head and air out these winterized bones<br />
<br />
I watch the ducks floating along the stream beside the path<br />
<br />
They are calm, peaceful, letting the water glide over their
feathers<br />
<br />
And I am like a duck, letting all this slide off me<br />
<br />
Continuing along my path, untroubled<br />
<br />
But I’m not untroubled<br />
<br />
Because yesterday’s troubles still haven’t gone<br />
<br />
And today the world has turned inside out<br />
<br />
And I walk along, trying to maintain normalcy somehow<br />
<br />
And a man jogs past and I wave<br />
<br />
Even as I hold my breath, knowing it’s senseless<br />
<br />
But each time I pass someone I do it anyway<br />
<br />
Wave and hold my breath until they pass<br />
<br />
And I think of the ducks and I tell myself to be calm<br />
<br />
Just let it all float past<br />
<br />
But my ankle aches, and I worry<br />
<br />
I watch my footing carefully<br />
<br />
What if I fell?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What
if I broke my ankle and had to go to the hospital?<br />
<br />
It’s not safe<br />
<br />
Nothing is safe<br />
<br />
And I think of the ducks<br />
<br />
And I think of them furiously paddling beneath the calm
surface of the water<br />
<br />
And I am like a duck<br />
<br />
Trying to keep calm outwardly while inside I am paddling
furiously<br />
<br />
Just trying to stay afloat<br />
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-10560200119495250552018-01-01T11:33:00.001-08:002018-01-01T11:33:07.518-08:00New Year's DayIt's been a good year.<br />
<br />
It seems strange to say that. I still have issues with trust. I still find it hard to believe that the Universe won't take away everything I love any minute. Experience has taught me that nothing lasts. Maybe that's why I treasure this life so much.<br />
<br />
Last year I began a journey of hope. I let people in to my heart and, just like the Grinch, my heart grew to fit them all. That's what love does, it expands. It multiplies. It sometimes hurts and it sometimes makes you laugh with happiness, but it is there below the surface of everything you touch, coloring every experience.<br />
<br />
I have so much to lose.<br />
<br />
Last year at this time, I hoped for peace within myself. I hoped to learn to sleep beside someone special and to enjoy the quiet times with him.<br />
<br />
I got what I wanted. I like hearing him breathing beside me when I wake in the dark of the night. I like stretching my hand out and resting it against his back, feeling his warmth, and drifting off to sleep. I like the times we just sit in the living room and watch TV or fall asleep to a movie together. I like doing mundane tasks with him...cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, anything that makes me feel we are working toward a common goal together, however small that goal might be.<br />
<br />
And then there is this family, this amazing family of his, who have allowed me to become a part of their lives.<br />
<br />
Words fail me.<br />
<br />
The word "love" is not enough.<br />
<br />
I have so much. I've gained so much. And I still want so much more.<br />
<br />
So this year, I hope to learn to trust. I hope to overcome my fear and stop living every moment just trying to hold on to what I have. I hope to stretch more, to grow more, to love more, to dare more...to ask for more...to give more. <br />
<br />
And to find the words.<br />
<br />Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-64674634471364510302017-02-03T18:31:00.001-08:002017-02-03T18:31:20.187-08:00You Held Me<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/HUndIfReVhM" width="459"></iframe>Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-1205194561672667672017-01-02T17:19:00.000-08:002017-01-02T17:19:05.917-08:00Tearing Down the WallIt's easy to say that 2016 was a lousy year. So many famous people died. There seemed to be no end to tragedies in the world. People everywhere seemed to be so angry and full of hate. And personally, I struggled in a way that made it difficult for me to focus on anything outside of my own head for a lot of the year.<br />
<br />
I entered 2016 feeling pretty sure of myself, cocky even. I had been on my own for a few years and I was totally happy with who I was. I felt secure. I felt complete. I joked about my own reckless independence, about how great it was to not need anyone for anything. Never tempt the gods.<br />
<br />
One day, I woke up and decided that I was ready to start dating again. I reached out, just a little. It felt so simple, so casual, so meaningless. I was perfectly good on my own, so what harm could it do to invite someone into my life?<br />
<br />
Somehow...somehow this one simple decision opened up a crack in a wall that I didn't even know existed. A wall so big that I had mistaken it for the horizon.<br />
<br />
So...other things happened in there. I lost a bunch of weight and went from a size 18 to an 8. I finally took up hiking, which is my new love and which I had wanted to do for years. Built myself a cool waterfall in my back yard, as well as a stone wall. I even traveled to Iceland, all by myself.<br />
<br />
Almost everything I did was all by myself.<br />
<br />
Always...<br />
<br />
And it was starting to weigh on me. There is an unbearable weight to emptiness. To loneliness. It is soul crushing to accomplish the things you want most in the world and not have someone beside you...that right someone who will smile at you in a way that lets you know that they get you, they see right through you to your very core.<br />
<br />
I have friends, the absolute best friends anyone could ever ask for, and I love each and every one of them and could not have made it this far in life without them. I am grateful for everything they have done for me, for every time they have listened to me, every time they have been here to pick up the pieces of me...but I think they will understand this need that they could not fill. This void that no one could fill.<br />
<br />
So yeah, I started taking some chances. I started looking around and talking to guys and flirting, even. I had some false starts, some practice runs...and then I finally dove in.<br />
<br />
I have to admit that the experience has been terrifying and eye opening.<br />
<br />
All of the fears that I thought I had gotten past in life came back, bigger than I remembered. All of the self doubt and second guessing that I thought was behind me was suddenly surrounding me. The gods heard me laugh, and they exposed my weakness.<br />
<br />
I need to care about someone outside of myself. <br />
<br />
Simple, right? But for me, terrifying. Fucking terrifying.<br />
<br />
I don't give up control easily. I don't like to let anyone else have control over me. But caring about another human being...that automatically gives them control, which makes me a basket case.<br />
<br />
This whole thing...taking a chance on caring about someone...it's a high wire act. When I started walking the rope it seemed scary, but I thought that once I got moving it would be all right. Instead, what I've found is that when you get out toward the middle the rope bounces every time the wind blows, and I'm out here without a net. Part of me wants to turn and run back to safety, but then that stubborn streak of mine kicks in and pushes me forward. To hell with safety. What good is life if you don't take chances?<br />
<br />
I don't know what tomorrow will bring. I don't know if it will be happiness or heartbreak. Either way, there is a hole in the wall...that wall I didn't know existed. The wall is crumbling in a way that makes me think I will never be able to repair it or rebuild it. I am coming out of 2016 a different person than I was when I went in. and I'm still not entirely sure of who this new person is.<br />
<br />
I'm hoping 2017 will teach me easier lessons, like maybe mastering the ability to sleep in a bed beside another human being, or playing guitar. Right now, all I really want is to sit on the couch next to a guy whose smile makes me happy and not talk about anything important, to lay my head on his chest and listen to him breathe...and just breathe beside him. Because in those moments life is good. I forget all my fears and feel a little bit of peace. So, all you gods, if you're listening...give a girl a break. Just let me breathe here for a while. With any luck, I won't even notice that wall turning to rubble all around me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-23772048918998176472016-11-13T10:20:00.001-08:002016-11-13T10:20:24.148-08:00ChumYou know how it is when sharks smell blood in the water? How they circle? How they fight each other, growing ever more frenzied trying to get a bite of something good? When you want to attract sharks, you chum the waters, tossing bloody bait out to bring them in.<br />
<br />
Friday night, I was the chum.<br />
<br />
I wear my heart on my sleeve. Sometimes, this is a problem. Still, I choose to put myself out there, to share my feelings with all of you. Anyone who wants to look can see me.<br />
<br />
So Friday was a rough day for me. I was nothing but a raw nerve, unable to even make much of an effort to get myself together, and I put it out there for all the world to see, as I do so often, right or wrong.<br />
<br />
My plan was just to go out, get drunk, and feel sorry for myself for a few hours. I think I'm entitled to do that every now and then. I didn't bother putting on makeup or doing my hair. I wore jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt. My eyes were red and puffy. Basically, I was a hot mess.<br />
<br />
At the bar, I hung out with my friends and I drank...a lot. Trying to maintain a level of drunkenness that kept me from thinking too much. All I wanted was to drink and dance and go home and pass out.<br />
<br />
But somehow, I ended up in a shark tank.<br />
<br />
I had put it on Facebook, that a relationship that had barely begun had come to an abrupt end due to some unusual circumstances. I'm not going to elaborate on that part because it's not my story to tell, but I will say that the guy I was seeing is a good person and I don't fault him one bit. Quite the opposite, actually. Which doesn't make it any easier to let go. I have no righteous anger to deflect the pain. Just a sense of having lost something that had potential to be really good.<br />
<br />
This, apparently, was blood in the water.<br />
<br />
I started getting texts and Facebook messages. Some from friends offering support...others from people masquerading as friends.<br />
<br />
If you're not sure which category you fall in, ask yourself if you followed up your sympathy with an attempt to hit on me. <br />
<br />
Yup, apparently there are people out there who see someone in a vulnerable state and think, "Maybe I've got a shot while she's feeling really low". <br />
<br />
At the bar, I repeatedly told one guy that all I wanted was to drink and dance, but he just wouldn't quit. I enlisted the help of a friend of the guy I had been seeing to get rid of him, too exhausted to deal with him myself at that point.<br />
<br />
The "friend" did help me in that respect, but then things took an odd turn.<br />
<br />
He asked what the guy I had been seeing had said to me, what he told me, fishing for information. I told him that he was one of the few people I shouldn't have to explain the situation to and said no more. I did, however, burst into tears right there on the dance floor.<br />
<br />
More blood in the water.<br />
<br />
This guy...he actually sat me down at the bar and wiped away my tears and then started trying to get me to take him home, promising me that he would just hold me and be there for me, then offering some very specific sexual favors. He told me he wanted my number so he could call and check up on me.<br />
<br />
I told him I would give it to him, but I never did. I sat there and I drank and I listened to him for far too long. I was so lost in that moment, wishing for real comfort and finding only this. This...disgusting attempt at leveraging my heartache to try to score.<br />
<br />
He actually mentioned seeing me at his friend's house the week before. I wish I could remember everything he said, but I was so very drunk at that point in time and what I do remember is disturbing enough.<br />
<br />
There are not enough hot showers in the world to get that kind of ick off.<br />
<br />
In the end, I ran out of the bar, literally ran out the door, tossing on my coat as I went. I kept looking over my shoulder as I walked home, afraid someone would follow me. Afraid that there was too much blood in the water and the sharks would move in for the kill.<br />
<br />
But I made it home safely. I locked my door and had a good cry before drifting off to sleep. I hate that feeling of being hunted. I know too well the terror of the prey as the pack closes in.<br />
<br />
I may have been chum, but anyone who makes another human being feel that way is scum.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-2177139851474809812016-09-28T17:02:00.002-07:002016-09-28T17:02:46.364-07:00I'm a Lover, Not a FighterI answered my phone today only to find a very angry woman on the other end of the line. She told me that she had found my number in her "man's" phone, and wanted to know what I was doing with her man and how long it had been going on. <br />
<br />
I was at a bit of a loss. I've met a few new people recently and I have no idea which one of them she might be referring to. I tried to ask, but she cut me off, "I'm not finished!" she shouted at me. I ended up hanging up on her since she didn't seem interested in getting any answers to her questions.<br />
<br />
Later, I tried to call her back but she didn't answer. I left her a message letting her know that if she would just tell me "her man's" name I would be happy to not have anything to do with him since the last thing I want to do is to get involved with someone who is already in a relationship with someone else. I don't need that kind of drama.<br />
<br />
This is not the first time this has happened to me.<br />
<br />
The last time was probably twenty years ago, when a friend of mine decided to pass my phone number on to a guy friend of hers without asking my permission. He never called, but his wife did. That was weird, since I didn't even figure out how some random guy had my phone number until later and had no idea what she was talking about when she called.<br />
<br />
The first time something like this happened...well, that time I deserved it. <br />
<br />
I was sixteen years old and dating a guy who was almost twice my age. I knew he was engaged. I didn't care. In my defense, I was <i>sixteen</i> years old and just coming out of a horrible, abusive relationship. This guy was nice to me, and that's really all I cared about at the time.<br />
<br />
And then, <i>she</i> showed up at my apartment. Imagine being a sixteen year old jackass and suddenly finding yourself trying to console a thirty year old woman in a fake fur jacket with blue mascara running down her cheeks as she asks, "Why are you doing this to me?"<br />
<br />
Honestly, I had no good answer. I didn't even care that much. All I could think about was getting this sobbing woman out of my house before my father got home and I was forced to come up with some plausible excuse for what was going on.<br />
<br />
Somehow, I did get her out, and soon thereafter I ended the relationship. I decided then and there that I would never get involved in that kind of mess again.<br />
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I don't have any interest in fighting over any guy. If he wants to be with me, he should be with me. If he wants to be with someone else, he should go. If we've decided we're going to see other people, everyone involved should know exactly where they stand. No mystery. No drama. No bullshit. <br />
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This whole dating thing is pretty new to me at this stage. I'm trying to be as open and honest as I possibly can. If anything, I think I err on the side of providing too much information right now, but that's okay. If I make mistakes, it's probably going to be in assuming that the guys I'm talking to are being as honest with me as I am with them. I don't feel a bit guilty over a lie that someone else told me. All I want is to put some distance between myself and the person who would do that.<br />
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Unfortunately, the woman calling me a bitch on the phone today refused to tell me the guy's name, which does make it difficult for me to ensure that I'm leaving him alone. But, I don't want to fight over anyone and if I find out who it is, she's welcome to him...not that I understand why she would want a guy she thinks is lying to her and cheating on her.<br />
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<br />Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-31984036024112911482016-09-16T19:16:00.001-07:002016-09-16T19:16:53.768-07:00Hard to KeepMany years ago...many, many years ago...a guy named Dick said to me, "I get it now. You're not hard to get. You're hard to keep. Hard to earn." Those words resonated with me. I don't think that anyone in a position to know has ever said anything as true about me. <br />
<br />
I'm not hard to get. I don't feel the need to play games or make someone jump through hoops for a chance with me. If I find something to like about you, you have a chance. The thing is, it's just as easy to blow that chance as it was to get it.<br />
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I'll put up with a little bit of bullshit at the beginning. I'll make allowances. Tell myself a story to make you come out looking better than you should.<br />
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But it's not long before I hit the point where I prefer to just cut my losses and walk away.<br />
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I asked my dad recently, "What's wrong with guys?" and he said, "They're just trying to get in your pants". "But they're so bad at it," I replied.<br />
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Most guys blow it within minutes. They can't seem to help saying or doing something stupid. One guy actually said to me, "You look like you give good blow jobs". "Funny, so do you", I said. What did he expect for a response? Really???<br />
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So anyway, here I am, trying to give someone a chance. He made it a short distance without blowing it, but he's probably on the verge of goodbye already. Which is okay. I may as well put a stop to it before I have anything invested emotionally. The thing is that it's the emotional investment I actually crave. I want someone to show me that they're worth the effort. <br />
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I'm just no damn good at playing games. And I'm definitely not into waiting for a guy to get good and ready to make a move. I say what's on my mind. I go after what I want. I want someone equally honest and open and willing to take a chance. Maybe some guys are intimidated by that? I don't know. <br />
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All I know is that I've been single for a long time now, and I'm ready to try. I'm ready to put myself out there, to get rejected, to screw up and even to fall for the wrong guy. I'm ready to get my heart broken, and even to take a chance on hurting someone else's feelings. It's all part of the territory.<br />
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Ultimately, I want to find someone else to love. Someone else who will love me. Someone who will understand that I'm not hard to get, but that I'm worth the effort to keep. Someone who will put themselves out there and let me know that they're thinking about me. Someone who can keep up with me intellectually as well as physically.<br />
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I want to find someone I like as much as I like myself. And I don't think there's anything wrong with that. It just may take a while to find.<br />
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In the meantime, I'll probably kiss some frogs. That's okay, too. I toad you that I wasn't hard to get.<br />
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<br />Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-88815373086859104482016-08-14T20:55:00.003-07:002016-08-14T21:00:37.823-07:00The Invisible ManI trace your jawline with my fingertips<br />
Read the topography of your smile as I reach your mouth<br />
I imagine the crinkling at the corners of your eyes<br />
Though I cannot see you<br />
It is pitch black in this room where we meet<br />
But I can feel you<br />
I know you<br />
<br />
Sometimes you're gone away from me for so long that I wonder if you're ever coming back<br />
Some nights I lie awake waiting for you to come to me<br />
And then I feel a breeze stir the curtains<br />
Hear a soft step approaching the bed<br />
And I know you've come back to me<br />
I open my arms, open my heart<br />
It doesn't matter where you've been<br />
<br />
Other nights fear enters my room like a lover<br />
Her icy fingers trace my spine <br />
And murmur in my ear that you will never return to me<br />
That you are hers now<br />
I try to shut her out, curling in toward myself<br />
If you want me, I'm yours<br />
I roll over and tell her that I don't care<br />
If you don't want me, I will cease to want you<br />
I cannot be ruled by fear<br />
<br />
And when fear has gone her way I find myself entertaining hope<br />
We drink a toast together in the dark and dream of what might be<br />
We giggle like children, drunk on future happiness<br />
She tells me you may be there even in the light<br />
That you could be mere inches from me and I wouldn't know your face<br />
She tells me you'll be back<br />
And that you're worth the wait<br />
But eventually I turn my back on her, too<br />
I cannot subsist on hope alone<br />
<br />
The emptiness is full of these demons that keep me company in the black of night<br />
Until I hear that familiar step approaching<br />
And they scatter like birds as I open my arms to you once again<br />
Each time knowing<br />
As long as you come back to me I will welcome you<br />
To trace your features in the dark<br />
To feel your smile pressed against my lips<br />
To imagine what it might be like to look into your eyes<br />
And to know that you are real and you are here<br />
And not just a dream that returns to haunt me like the ghost of love night after night<br />
<br />
But for now, this is all I have<br />
And so I make it all I need<br />
And I make the darkness stretch across the light <br />
Even as I curse the sun for rising<br />
Staring wide eyed at the dawn, hoping to catch just a glimpse of you, my love<br />
Before you turn to smoke and drift away from me once more<br />
<br />Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-38907788204398839832016-08-08T17:01:00.000-07:002016-08-08T17:01:34.681-07:00Down a Dark MountainI've been wanting to get some nice sunset photos, and it seemed to me that the best vantage point would be the top of a mountain. The only problem is that if you stay at the summit for the sunset, you have to hike down in the dark.<br />
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I'm not the most experienced hiker. I've only been at this for a short time. So, I did what I do and consulted the internet. Article after article said that you should never ever hike alone at night, that it wasn't smart or safe to go alone, especially if you're not an experienced hiker.<br />
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The articles stressed that this should only ever be done in good weather, on mountains you were super familiar with.<br />
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So, I told a few people what I was up to, and proceeded to climb Sleeping Beauty to take pictures of the sunset. Alone.<br />
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It was a beautiful night, although there was a bit more cloud cover than I would have desired. The clouds can make for more dramatic photos, but when there are too many, it just obscures most of the sunset, which is what eventually happened. Before then, though, I managed to get a few pictures I was happy with.</div>
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There was a large group of hikers on the summit, obviously also there to watch the setting sun. I could have hiked down with their group for safety, but by then I had set my mind on doing it alone.</div>
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So, once the sun set, I waited. And once all the other hikers had gone, I waited. I gave it about ten or fifteen minutes, just to be sure I wouldn't run into them on the way down.</div>
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The clouds had all but completely covered the sky and the second I started down the trail, it began to rain. What could I do at that point but be glad my hiking boots were waterproof? I turned on my headlamp and continued on.</div>
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At first I stumbled a few times, unused to judging the uneven ground in the beam of the headlamp, but after a few minutes I grew more sure of myself and had little trouble navigating. I actually found that it was easier to see the trail markers in the dark as they reflected my light back to me. </div>
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Once, I snagged my shoe lace on a tree stump as I took a step down and nearly fell, but I hopped around on one foot until I got free. The rest really was smooth sailing. I heard the other hikers up ahead calling someone's name once, but otherwise didn't see or hear anyone until I got to the end of the trail. It didn't rain hard, just enough to make the trail squelchy in spots, and the dark trail and feeling of being utterly alone in the forest at night lent me some great ideas for a horror movie.</div>
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Before I knew it, I could see the lights of the group that had left before me gathered at the end of the trail just up ahead. I had successfully completed my first night hike alone on a cloudy, rainy night. </div>
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I can't wait to do it again!</div>
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<br />Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-6913341222083864542016-07-25T16:53:00.001-07:002016-07-25T16:53:28.980-07:00War and PeaceWhen you've tired of the battle<br />I will trace your many scars<br />Gently, gently with my fingers<br />Never hardened in a war<br />
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I will offer you some water<br />I will offer you some wine<br />I will take you to my bed<br />Where you can quench this thirst of mine<br />
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If we lie tangled together<br />Damp with sweat beneath the sheets<br />Can we forget for just a moment<br />All the secrets that we keep<br />
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I will smile into your neck<br />I will offer you my throat<br />Gently, gently now my lover<br />This fire ignites my very soul<br />
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If we clench our fingers tightly <br />Hold each other in a gaze<br />Can we keep the war from coming in<br />And make a love that stays<br />
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Can we lose ourselves forever<br />Drunk on sweaty, salty bliss<br />Or will the drums of war intrude again<br />Until we question this<br />
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Will you whisper to me gently<br />Will you softly say my name<br />Will you learn to lose yourself with me<br />To find what we might gain<br />
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If our hearts could beat together<br />Could they drown the drums of war<br />Gently, gently move together<br />Until all that's left is love<br />
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<br />Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-76202055441246662072016-07-21T18:26:00.000-07:002016-07-21T18:27:14.506-07:00Love and Marriage<br />
Yesterday was my Wedding Anniversary, or would have been if I wasn't divorced. It's a little ironic that I realized it because for most of my marriage, I wasn't very good at remembering the date, a fact my ex-husband never exactly embraced. It's not that I didn't care, I'm just not great at keeping track of things like that.<br />
I'm not sad about the fact that I'm divorced and, despite what some might think, I moved on a long time ago even though I haven't really dated anyone in the years since we parted ways. I just needed some alone time. I needed time to just be me. <br />
I have thought often in the past couple of years about love and marriage, what they are and what that means to me. I've thought about what my own marriage meant to my life and whether or not it lost all meaning because it didn't last. <br />
So, from the perspective of time and distance, here's what I think about all of it.<br />
Love is still the most important thing in the world. You can have everything else you've ever wanted and, if you don't have the right person to share it with, it can still ring hollow. It's in my happiest moments that I feel that emptiness most keenly. <br />
To me, marriage is the moment when you stand up in front of the whole world and say, "I choose this person". It can be the most daring thing in the world to make that declaration and to mean it with your whole heart. And it can be the most comforting thing you'll ever know, to feel that the person you have chosen has also chosen you.<br />
The end of a marriage is heart-breaking. There is no other way around it. You grieve the loss of not only the person you loved, but the idea of the life you thought you had together, or could have had together if things had been just a little different.<br />
Ultimately, I'm glad that I got married, even though it didn't work out. Tommy gave me a place to call home for over a decade, even if some of those years were difficult. I'm sure it wasn't always easy being married to someone like me, someone who is independent to a fault. I often tried to explain why I thought it was important that I didn't need him, that he was in my life because I wanted him there. I don't think he always understood that. I never wanted to need anyone. It's important to me that every moment I spend with someone is by my choice, because I prefer to be with that person over all others, not out of some kind of sense of needing to have someone by my side. I would rather be alone than to spend my life with someone out of necessity or fear.<br />
Still, I never wanted to date again. And maybe I let things go on too long in the hope that I wouldn't have to. <br />
When I married him, I made Tommy my family and he will always be my family even if I never see him again. I wish for only good things for him. I am thankful for the time we spent together, thankful that he gave me that moment, that he stood up in front of the world with me and told everyone that he chose me and that I chose him. That moment was everything to an independent girl like me. It was everything I was afraid of allowing myself to want.<br />
Now, reflecting on all of it from the comfort of time and distance, I can say that I gained more than I lost. I don't think I could have ever been as happy and as sure of myself as I am now if I had never had that moment. I don't think I could have ever been as happy alone as I am if I had never tried and failed to make a life with someone else. <br />
I know now that I'm capable of doing either - living alone or living with someone. I look forward to the time when I find the right someone to share my life with.<br />
I don't know if I'll ever get married again. I'm certainly not in any rush. I don't even know at this point if I'll ever fall in love again...but I hope so. I'm willing to admit now that while I might not need anyone...I kind of want to. Maybe allowing myself to rely on someone else isn't the worst thing I could do. Maybe someday, it will even happen.<br />
But for now, I'm happy. I'm at peace with my life and with myself. And I'm at peace with my marriage as well as my divorce.<br />
Thank you, Tommy, for being my home for all those years. Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-11166258610525928322016-07-05T16:26:00.002-07:002016-07-21T20:03:35.979-07:00The Summit<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It had been about twenty years since I last climbed a mountain, a trip so terrible I had all but blocked it from my memory. The highlights of that hike include a run-in with a six foot rattlesnake and wading through chest deep water while taking a "shortcut" suggested by one of my fellow hikers.<br />
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Probably because that trip was all but forgotten, I decided that I wanted to hike again. My goal last summer was actually to start hiking, but somehow it never happened. This past winter, I decided I was going to start training and be ready to do it in the spring. I was doing the treadmill on steep inclines for an hour at a time and feeling pretty good about myself. Then I got plantar fasciitis which is basically fancy doctor talk for excruciating pain in the foot. For a while, all walking was put on hold, my foot so painful at times that I struggled just to go grocery shopping.<br />
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After months of babying it, my foot was finally good enough to start walking again. I went out most nights for at least an hour, enjoying spending time outdoors and yearning for more. I was ready.<br />
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So, last Saturday morning, I got up and climbed Buck Mountain. As soon as I started the first part of the ascent, I realized I had forgotten my asthma inhaler at home. At that point, I wasn't going to let a little thing like not breathing stop me, so I pressed on. I took as many breaks as I needed to, for as long as I needed to. I took pictures along the way and enjoyed the peace and seclusion of an early morning hike in the woods, listening to the breeze rustling through the trees and the sounds of the birds chirping away to each other.<br />
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I made the summit in just under two hours. It was beautiful. Amazing. Everything I wanted it to be. I chose a rock to sit on and had my breakfast. A friendly dog belonging to another hiker came over and licked my face in greeting. I pet her for a few minutes and she ran off as soon as I tried to snap a picture, preferring a life of anonymity to the constraints of celebrity, apparently. I took pictures and enjoyed the wind whipping through my hair and cooling me off after all the hard work of getting to the top.<br />
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After about an hour, I headed back down, glad I had decided on an early start as an endless stream of people made their way upward.<br />
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I was so thrilled with my day's experience that I decided to hike Sleeping Beauty the next morning. I practically skipped up the mountain, it was so easy compared to Buck, and I made it to the top in a little under an hour. Again, I spent an hour taking pictures, having a snack, and generally feeling content before heading back via Bumps Pond. <br />
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But this journey did not begin this past weekend. It didn't begin at the gym last winter or even last summer when I decided climbing mountains was something I wanted to do. This journey began a few years ago, when I decided I didn't like the life I was living any more.<br />
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There have been many starts to this journey. I have made advances, and I have had setbacks. Some days my path has been clear and others I have all but lost my way. In the beginning, I took a step. And then another. And another. Until one day, I found myself at the top of the mountain...looking forward to the next mountain to climb.<br />
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There is only one way to change your life. Take a step. Start moving in the direction you want to go in and keep moving in that direction, even if you find that your path is long and winding or overgrown completely in places. Sometimes you may need to sit and rest. Sometimes you will need to lay back and look up at the stars to make sense of it all. Sometimes you might even need to stop and have a good cry. But no matter what else you do, keep getting up and moving in the direction you want to go in. <br />
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I promise you, one day you will get there.<br />
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<br />Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-30326196899878872812016-03-06T15:15:00.001-08:002016-03-06T15:21:56.092-08:00Barcelona This is an overview of my visit to Barcelona and surrounding areas in October of 2015. It was a beautiful city and I found so many things to love there. Sights included in this video are the city of Barcelona, Park Guell, The Vall de Nuria in the Pyrenees Mountains, Queralbs, Labyrinth Park, Barcelona Beach, Cadaques, and a hot air balloon trip in Cardedeu, among others. The music on this video is by Romuald Borowiak, who was playing guitar and selling his CD's outside Park Guell the day I visited. I hope you enjoy it! <br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/aPZC7-XF-fc" width="480"></iframe>Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-10131629992826899332014-10-09T18:17:00.000-07:002014-10-09T18:17:42.239-07:00I Can't Remember: A PoemI wrote this a few months back and decided to share it, finally. I wrote it thinking of someone I knew a very long time ago and then was surprised to run into that person not long after writing it. Sometimes, writing feels like an invocation, a spell, that has the power to make things happen in the real world. This is one of those times for me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I can’t remember a single conversation we ever had<br />
I sat here and tried<br />
But I can’t think of one<br />
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I can’t remember the way we made love<br />
Or why it felt so right<br />
I can’t explain it<br />
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All I can remember is the way my heart skipped a beat every time you walked into a room<br />
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All I can remember is the sound of my name on your lips whispered quietly into my ear as we lay in bed together<br />
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All I can remember is your smile, and the way everything else in the world melted away when you were near<br />
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Love isn't something we can grab hold of, stick in a jar and preserve for later<br />
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Love is fleeting<br />
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It’s the moment when your eyes met mine and my whole body lit up with electricity<br />
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I knew then that you felt it, too<br />
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Now, I’m not sure anymore because the memories are gone<br />
<br />
I have nothing to tell me it was real<br />
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I have nothing to tell me if your heart still aches sometimes, lying in bed with someone else all these years later<br />
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Our bodies always knew better than our minds<br />
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We could never be in the same room without feeling it<br />
<br />
We could never be alone without touching<br />
<br />
My lips always found their way to yours<br />
<br />
Our clothes always found their way to the floor<br />
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I can’t remember the first time we made love<br />
I’m surprised to realize that<br />
But I can’t remember<br />
<br />
I can’t remember<br />
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Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-82470350882704937822014-09-24T19:41:00.000-07:002014-09-24T19:41:50.393-07:00Pedal, Fat-Ass!I had been riding my bike for over an hour. I was tired, using the last of my energy to get back home, and I was almost there...just around the corner. I'm sure I looked exhausted. I know I wasn't moving very fast by then, every push of the pedal a struggle. That's when he stopped dead in the middle of the road, half a block away from me, stuck his head out the driver's side window of his car and yelled, "Pedal, Fat-Ass!"<br />
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I admit it, it stung. How could it not? At the same time, I was perplexed. Why? I mean, he could have just driven across the street, he was nowhere near me. Even if he felt the need to shout insults, he could have done it without stopping. But this guy, this young guy in the old car, he felt so strongly about the sight of me pedaling my fat ass down the street that he was compelled to stop dead in the middle of an intersection and yell at me. Pedal, Fat-Ass.<br />
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And I did. I continued to pedal, or to walk, almost every day since then. There were days in the beginning when I had to bribe myself with promises of ice cream to get me out there, but I did it. I got out there. Over and over again. For the past two months I have walked or biked for about an hour and a half to two hours per day, for at least five days a week. I decided to make a change in my life, and then I went out there and started to make it happen.<br />
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Obviously, I had already begun to make this change before I was heckled, or I wouldn't have been there to be shouted at in the first place. This whole thing of trying to get in shape didn't happen over night. In some ways, it's been happening for years.<br />
<br />
I was a smoker for twenty years. After many attempts, I finally succeeded at quitting that particularly bad habit almost seven years ago. I think about it now and don't know how I did it. How did I even function as a smoker? I have asthma, for Pete's sake. If I walk past a heavy smoker, one who isn't even currently puffing on a cigarette, I gag. When I'm out walking and pass smokers on the sidewalk I hold my breath until I'm clear of them. I think it's safe to say that I'll never start smoking again. No interest. I like breathing too much.<br />
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But smoking wasn't my only bad habit and when I quit I gave in to the urge to snack far more often than I should have. I was a couch potato. I love books and movies and TV. I love writing and daydreaming and laying on the couch with my dog. I love chocolate and pot roast dinners and bread. But all of that was taking its toll on me. I was far too sedentary and my diet was terrible.<br />
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A doctor's visit a couple years ago revealed that continuing on the path I was on would lead me to diabetes, hypertension, sleep apnea, and a host of other problems I didn't want to deal with. I started trying to improve my diet.<br />
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Over the past couple of years, I have started experimenting with vegetables. Don't laugh, until that point in my life the only veggies I would eat were corn, potatoes, and canned green beans. Since then, I've learned that roasting vegetables can transform them into something not only edible but, (dare I say it), delicious. I've learned to like broccoli and even brussels sprouts when they're roasted. I've cut out most red meat and stick to mainly poultry and fish. I started a garden and made countless stir fries using my fresh pea pods and green beans along with the red peppers that have become one of my favorite foods. I eat more beans, and less processed foods than I ever have before. Okay, I admit it, I'm still a chocoholic and that will probably never change, but who wants to live a life without chocolate anyway?<br />
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I've had my ups and downs. Lost some weight, gained it back plus some when I fell off the wagon and started eating too much junk again. At one point, my doctor told me that I'm not using the bottom of my lungs at all. My blood pressure was also getting high enough that she was pressuring me to go on medication to manage it. I didn't want to do that. I didn't want to go down that path. I didn't want to write myself off as a fat middle aged ex-smoker who couldn't be anything but a couch potato because walking and talking at the same time was enough to make me wheeze. I didn't want to follow in my father's footsteps and end up having a heart attack and a stroke. <br />
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At that point, I had to decide who I wanted to be. I started slow. I had to. At first it was a struggle just to go for a half hour walk three times a week. But I started to feel something. I started to feel the seed of possibility. I came to the realization that I was changing. That with every step I was quite literally changing who I was and making myself into who I wanted to be.<br />
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I stepped up my game. I started walking more. I set goals, and then exceeded them. I walked over six miles one night because I was determined to walk for at least two full hours. I came up with a couple of regular routes I walk, one takes an hour, the other an hour and a half. I very seldom use the hour route. If I do, it's because I'm pairing it with a bike ride. I've lost about fifteen pounds in two months.<br />
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Right now, I seem to have plateaued. I haven't lost any more weight in a while. I was starting to get frustrated. The little voice in the back of my mind was saying, "Screw this. Let's sit on the couch and eat ice cream for a few days." So, I did what I didn't want to do. I told the voice to shove it. I went outside and I walked, and I walked harder. I pushed myself to walk faster. Tonight, for the first time since possibly High School, I even jogged. Not for very long at a stretch, after a couple of minutes I start wheezing and have to go back to walking, but I did it nonetheless. And I did it at least a half dozen times during tonight's walk.<br />
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I finally figured something out. When I quit smoking, I had to come up with a better argument than the voice of addiction that whispered in my ear and told me how great a cigarette would be and how I could just have one more and that would be it. I had to come up with a voice stronger and louder than that one. I had to come up with a more persuasive argument. And that's what I've done again. Sometimes, the argument is simple. I want to look better. Sometimes that's not enough and I have to think about the health consequences of not getting into better shape. And sometimes, I just have to listen to my body. To feel my lungs engaging all the way down to the very bottom when I jog for a block or ride my bike up a hill. I like that feeling. I like feeling my body coming back to life. And I like the ridiculously baggy asses of all of my pants now.<br />
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I have a long way to go, but I'm on the right path now and nothing is going to stop me. Which brings me back to the guy who felt the need to stop his car to let me know how ridiculous I am. I've had ample time to consider that one shouted sentence while walking and biking for the past several weeks. What I've come to realize is this. That guy obviously has issues that have nothing to do with me. For some reason, the only way he could come up with to make himself feel better was to try to make someone else feel worse. His only power would have been to make me give up, to pedal my fat ass home and console myself with an ice cream sundae. I didn't do that. I got my fat ass back out there, day after day after day and I will continue to do so, especially on the days that I don't want to. That guy is not my problem. He never was.<br />
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In the end, we are all our own worst enemies. The only way to defeat the enemy without defeating yourself is to get out there and do it. Push through it. Take the first step, the first spin of the wheel, the first row of the oar, whatever it takes. Just get moving. Every step is a step in the right direction. Every time you push yourself forward you change who you are. Not just on the outside, but on the inside. You increase your sense of worth by increasing your resolve. You sculpt your mind while you sculpt your body. You can be anyone you want, you just have to make it happen. And you make it begin to happen with the act of beginning. Sometimes, when you don't feel like doing it, you just have to <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mEyrfFwf3rI">Do It Anyway</a>.<br />
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<br />Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-3775943821711521032014-09-13T10:06:00.001-07:002014-09-13T10:06:10.513-07:00Figuring It OutThe past couple years have brought a lot of changes to my life. The death of my grandmother. The end of my marriage. The struggle to figure it all out.<br />
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For a long time, and I mean several years, I was running on autopilot. I was a zombie. I was watching the movie of my life go by and I wasn't even enjoying the popcorn. <br />
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My marriage was a mess for a long time before it ended. I guess that technically my marriage is still a mess because I'm not divorced yet, but that's just paperwork. As far as my heart, my mind, and my life go...I'm on my own. <br />
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Even after Tommy left, I had my sister and her family here and I kind of piggy backed onto their lives. And then one day they were gone, too. And I was left with this big empty space where I thought I had a life.<br />
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So...here I am.<br />
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If my life were a Rocky movie, I would already have gotten my ass kicked and I would now be training for the next big fight. This is the part of the movie they always show as a montage. Why? Because it's not exciting to watch. It is, however, the pivotal moment in the film. It's the time when our hero decides to scrape herself off the couch and get to work. It's the time when the hero of the story grows, changes, becomes...whatever she's supposed to become.<br />
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When you see a cocoon, it's not much to look at. I mean, you wouldn't sit there and stare at a cocoon for weeks on end because it was just so riveting that you couldn't take your eyes away, would you? No. If you did, your life would be more boring than mine. Which might explain why you're reading my blog.<br />
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Anyway, once the Spring comes, something very exciting happens to that cocoon after all. Something new emerges from it. A caterpillar goes in and a butterfly comes out.<br />
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I'm trying to build a butterfly in here. I know it takes time, but I think I've figured out how to do it. So take a peek in my direction now and then. One day, you might be surprised to find an empty cocoon.<br />
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<br />Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-5631751013417859312012-09-30T18:01:00.000-07:002012-10-01T17:47:54.582-07:00The Freedom of Being an Outsider<div style="text-align: left;">
Yesterday, I read a news story about Whitney Kropp, a high school sophomore who was voted Homecoming Queen as a joke. </div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Whitney Kropp</span></div>
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Unfortunately, this story hit rather close to home for me.
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Halfway through eighth grade, my family moved and I changed schools. Eighth grade is a pretty tough year to begin with. Many kids are entering their teens and all those wacky hormones start kicking in, plus the school system I moved to was known to be very cliquey. I made friends, but I was not a part of the established cliques, so I was far from being part of the "in" crowd.
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I was one of the youngest kids in the class, and still very much a goofy kid. My friends and I were a pretty close-knit bunch of misfits. We all got picked on from time to time, but I don't think any of us worried about it much.
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I got teased by some of the more popular kids. Some people called me Dogface. I assume that stemmed from a really bad "poodle perm" I got at my mother's urging, but, who knows. One kid comes up with something mean, another laughs, before you know it, it sticks.
Of course I didn't enjoy it, but it wasn't something I spent time worrying about. I knew they didn't like me. I knew they thought I was ugly. But there were other people who did like me, and there were other boys who asked me out.
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At the end of the year, there was an 8th grade "prom". It wasn't a big dressy event like the high school prom, but they elected a prom court and all that sort of thing.
Imagine my surprise when my name was announced as one of the girls who had made the Prom Court. I was stunned. I knew it couldn't be right, even though friends came up and congratulated me.
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Then I started getting threats. Anonymous notes turned up in my locker threatening to beat me and my friends up if I didn't drop off the Court. One of the teachers came up to me and introduced himself saying that he wanted to make sure I was a real person as he had never heard of me before. He asked if I was sure I wanted to stay on the court.
I did.
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As we neared the date of the prom, the threats escalated. It was doubly difficult because I couldn't explain to my mother that I was on the prom court as a joke. She was glad because she thought I was popular. I think I might have tried to tell her, but she didn't get it and I let it go. Or maybe I never said anything because I assumed she wouldn't get it. I don't remember after all these years, except to say that I felt I had to be secretive about the circumstances of my arrival on the prom court.
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What I do remember is walking across the auditorium and up onto the stage when they called my name. I remember being pelted with wadded up paper. I remember the animosity in the air. I think I smiled. I certainly tried to. The last thing I wanted was for any of them to ever know they had hurt me.
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It did hurt.
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">The way I felt.</span></div>
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I have absolutely no regrets about standing my ground and walking up onto that stage, though. If I had dropped out and let them have their way, I would have been their whipping girl for the next four years. They would have known that they had shamed and embarrassed me and I would have known that I had let them. Instead, I forced them to live with the consequences of their actions; namely that one of their friends did not get to be on the prom court they were "supposed" to be on because a goofy little geek girl was standing up there.
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I don't know who the "mastermind" behind that little plot was. I have no idea who voted for me or even why they hated me enough to single me out in that way. Back then, not knowing who it was just made me feel that it was "everyone" or "the popular kids". In reaction to that, and to a couple other horrible incidents that occurred shortly afterward, I entered my freshman year of high school with a strong feeling of being an outsider and a rebel.
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From then on, my motto was, "You may not like me, but you won't forget me". I lived a little louder. I gave up any fear of what my classmates might think of me. I actually grew to relish the idea of being hated. I loved feeling that I was a giant walking "Fuck You" to the popular crowd. Having been shown so forcefully that I did not fit in, I lost my desire to do so. Of that, I am grateful.
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I may have taken it a bit too far, but Whitney Kropp seems to be handling what was done to her with a great deal more intelligence and grace than I was able to muster. I hope that her pride in herself for handling the situation so well and for attracting the kind of support she has will help her to gain confidence in herself and to remember her value over the years. I hope she will never forget that she took an insult and turned it around on those who tried to do her harm.
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Even more, I hope that others who have stood by silently and watched someone being bullied will stand up and say that it's wrong. Once you lose your fear of rejection, once you realize you have nothing to lose and stand up for what you know is right, you will find what true freedom is.<br />
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<a href="http://www.facebook.com/#!/SupportWhitneyKropp?fref=ts">Support Whitney Kropp</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.pacerteensagainstbullying.org/#/home">Teens Against Bullying</a></div>
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<a href="http://www.stopbullying.gov/">http://www.stopbullying.gov/</a><br />
<a href="http://thelight.artistswanted.org/atts2012">Photography by Mary Anne Marcondes</a></div>
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Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-62420506010039370212012-04-19T20:10:00.000-07:002012-04-19T20:10:15.429-07:00A Year in the Life<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GVn00Ju6Nzg/T5DOySakuuI/AAAAAAAAAFU/Tm_LbdEj9YU/s1600/brain+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GVn00Ju6Nzg/T5DOySakuuI/AAAAAAAAAFU/Tm_LbdEj9YU/s1600/brain+2.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">This is not something you ever want to see on a brain scan.</span></div><br />
A year ago, we were on the verge of splitting up. Tommy had requested a job transfer back to Florida, his motorcycle had already been shipped in anticipation of the move, and I was planning on staying in New York without him, relishing the idea of being on my own again.<br />
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Then one night, I awoke to find Tommy violently sick, spraying vomit all over the bedroom. I sat in bed blinking at the clock, trying to figure out what the hell was going on, miserable to have been woken after just a couple hours of sleep, angry at Tommy for making such an ungodly mess, wondering what to do about it all. Then I got up to check on him.<br />
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When Tommy staggered out of the bathroom, he apologized and then fell into a chair. He said "Something's not right". I asked if he needed to go to the hospital and he said yes.<br />
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My heart started racing. I went into the bedroom and got some clothes, brought them to Tommy in the dining room and told him to get dressed. I went to get dressed myself, grabbed a towel and started wiping up the vomit which was sprayed on the walls, the dresser, the bed, the floor...everywhere.<br />
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When I went back out to the dining room, Tommy had one sock on. I asked him why he wasn't dressed and he said he couldn't do it. I saw that he wasn't moving his left side normally. My heart stopped. I dressed him and helped him to the car. He was listing to one side, not thinking clearly...I had no idea what was happening. I just knew we were both frightened and that I had to get him to the hospital.<br />
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I pulled the car up in front of the Emergency Room doors and we walked in. I started giving the receptionist Tommy's information while he staggered around the room. I know from talking with the receptionist later that she thought Tom was drunk at first. As I tried to explain the situation, he vomited in front of the snack machine.<br />
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Soon we were taken into a room. I ran out and moved the car and by the time I got back they had started doing tests. Doctors and nurses asked their questions...what could I say? He had a bad headache last night, and now his left side isn't working. My mind could reach no conclusions about what was happening. <br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eJFXFTbzJQk/T5DANC5HwJI/AAAAAAAAAEs/lNFRPX9Q-BE/s1600/0419110639-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eJFXFTbzJQk/T5DANC5HwJI/AAAAAAAAAEs/lNFRPX9Q-BE/s320/0419110639-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div> <span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-small;">Believe it or not, this guy was in the room next to Tommy's at the Glens Falls Hospital ER.</span><br />
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As the night turned to morning, I started making calls...I called in sick to work at my new job where I'd been for just a couple months...I called in sick for Tom, not knowing what to say except that we were at the hospital and didn't know what was wrong. I felt like a liar. I felt like I was making up some kind of crazy story. This sort of thing doesn't happen in real life. This is a House episode.<br />
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Then another Doctor came and asked me to explain it all again. I told him how Tommy had been complaining of a headache for awhile and how it had gotten really bad last night. How he thought he had pulled something in his neck and had tried putting ice on it...how he woke, the unbelievable projectile vomiting, how he couldn't dress himself and how I realized that his left side wasn't working right.<br />
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The doctor told me that made sense. That they had found something on his CT scan. There was "something" on his brain and they didn't know what it was, but that it was going to require brain surgery within the next couple of days.<br />
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My mind reeled. I don't know what I had expected to hear. I guess I thought the doctor would say it was the flu or something...food poisoning...I don't know. Anything but an unidentified something on his brain. Anything other than the need to choose whether to stay in Glens Falls or arrange for an ambulance to bring him to Albany for the surgery.<br />
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I chose Albany and called his parents. Imagine doing that. Calling your in-laws and explaining calmly that their son is being sent by ambulance to Albany Med because he has something on his brain. No, you don't know what it is, but he is probably going to need brain surgery within the next couple of days. Try to keep the panic out of your voice while you do it.<br />
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Tommy's parents and brother met us at Glens Falls Hospital just as the ambulance arrived to transport him. His mother rode with him, his father and brother drove down seperately and I stopped home to let the dog out before making the hour long drive by myself in a daze.<br />
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We spent a long day in the ER at Albany Med waiting for a room to open up for him. I tried to keep the panic at bay as the day wore on and Tommy kept getting worse. At first, I had thought that he was sleeping and out of it because of the medication they had given him but hour after hour went by and he wasn't being given anything else...he was just slipping away, from incoherent to unconscious and back again.<br />
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At some point, I convinced Tommy's family to go home and get some rest, which was good because it was six o'clock at night by the time we got into a room. The nurse tried to get him up to get his weight. She looked at me and asked, "Does he walk?" I always think of that moment, because that's when it hit home...he looks like a stroke victim. "Yesterday he did," I replied, "Just like you and me". I saw the realization dawn on her, the sympathy in her eyes. She stood Tommy up with the help of an aide. His left side was completely useless by that point. He was awake but not aware. He kept insisting he could do it himself if they would just let go of him. "You are, you're doing it yourself," the nurse told him as she pushed his left foot forward with her own.<br />
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Not twenty-four hours before, we were on the verge of splitting up. We were fighting because he had a headache and he was yelling at me like it was my fault. I was yelling at him to shut the fuck up and let me go to sleep. Not twenty-four hours before, we were just regular people who were not getting along. Now, everything was different. Now I was watching as he lay in a hospital bed, mumbling nonsense phrases then shouting them while looking me in the eye, obviously angry that I didn't understand what he wanted.<br />
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I made arrangements to have him watched by the staff overnight so I could go home and get some rest. I was told that they would do more tests the following day to determine exactly what it was and what the best course of action would be. We never got that far.<br />
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The next morning I got up early and went to drop the dog off at my brother-in-law's house. On my way there, I received a call from the hospital. The doctor told me that Tommy's condition had deteriorated rapidly overnight. He asked for my permission to do emergency brain surgery. He said that they still didn't know what it was but that they needed to get it out. He told me to consider it a life saving procedure. I agreed as I shoved the dog into Tommy's brother's arms. I agreed to transfusions. I agreed as they explained that they might have to removed a section of Tommy's skull and put it in a skull bank until the swelling went down enough to reattach it. I agreed to anything and everything...just do what you have to do. I explained to Tommy's brother what the conversation had been and then got back in my car, fighting with myself to not speed, drive carefully, don't get in an accident, but hurry hurry hurry.<br />
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I kept it together until I got to the surgical waiting room, then finally broke down.<br />
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Tommy's family came and waited with me. We paced, answered doctor's questions. Again, I had the feeling of being trapped in a House episode. No, we hadn't been out of the country. No, Tommy doesn't do drugs. No, he doesn't have any allergies...<br />
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Finally, the surgeon came out and told us that Tommy was okay. It was an abscess, not a tumor or anything else that might have been far worse. Surgery had gone well. They didn't have to remove any of his skull.<br />
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After what seemed like an incredibly long wait, we could finally see him. His head was bandaged. He had blood filled hoses snaking out of the top of his skull. Other than that, he looked pretty good. He was awake. He talked to us. He was confused about what had happened, but that was to be expected.<br />
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We spent just over a week at Albany Med while Tommy healed. It seems like we were there so much longer. It was one of the longest, hardest series of days I hope I ever have to go through. Tommy was on morphine through most of it and doesn't remember a lot of it now. He was sometimes very bossy and difficult to deal with. It was sometimes hard for me to look at him without letting him see the fear in my eyes.<br />
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And there were days when I was terrified. The swelling increased after the surgery until he looked like a fighter on the losing end of a few rounds with Rocky Balboa. He lost use of the left side of his body completely, including his vision.<br />
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</div>Finally, Tommy was cleared to go to rehab at Glens Falls Hospital. As soon as I got him settled in, I went back to work, trying to regain some kind of normalcy in my life while he did physical therapy. He regained movement on his left side and quickly regained his strength. The vision took a little longer.<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">By early May, Tommy was back home. He still had a PICC line, and I had to give him IV antibiotics twice a day, which was sometimes nerve wracking, but we got through it. Altogether, he was only out of work for two months. His recovery was remarkable and seemingly complete. He was back on track and we were back together. Everything seemed to be going well.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Then, in September, Tommy had his first seizure.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Since then, it's been a battle to keep our hope up that there will be an end to this. Everything will seem to be going well, and then Tommy will have another seizure. With each seizure comes time off from work while the doctors adjust his medications. With each increase of medication come side effects from an increase in anxiety and a decrease in patience to an inability to think clearly or concentrate. With the time off comes worry over money and whether or not Tommy will lose his job.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And, the worst part for Tommy, with each seizure the clock is reset and it's six more months until he can drive. No car. No motorcycle. No freedom.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It's no wonder he's frustrated. I'm frustrated for him. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"> We are both so grateful that he has come through this as well as he has. We are especially grateful to the many doctors, nurses, aides, and physical therapists who have helped us along the way and who continue to help us try to find a solution. We are grateful for our friends and family who have been there to support us along the way, including the friends that Tommy made in rehab at Glens Falls Hospital who have had similar struggles of their own.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">It's been a year since I nearly lost my husband. It's been the most difficult year of both of our lives. We have had good moments and bad, but we have worked through all of it together and for that I am grateful.</div>Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-58487518563147100642011-12-05T20:47:00.000-08:002012-04-20T19:59:14.516-07:00Waiting for the WalkersIf you're anything like me, you started going through withdrawals well before the mid-season finale of The Walking Dead. I'm pretty sure I had to reach for my inhaler at the mere mention of those words. How will we ever survive until the best show on TV starts back up? Here are a few ideas that will help prepare you for the impending zombie apocolypse.<br />
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1. <strong>Get thee to the Shooting Range.</strong> If you don't already have a gun, get one. If you have a gun, learn how to use it really, really well. Make sure you can reload in the dark while hoardes of undead shuffle ever nearer. And stock up on ammo, while you're at it. You don't want to have to resort to thwacking Walkers over the head with your shiny new rifle.<br />
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2. <strong>Gas up the car.</strong> In the event of a zombie apocolypse, you don't want to be left trying to figure out how to syphon gas from the neighbor's car, so fill 'er up now! Might I suggest buying a couple of gas cans and filling them up, too? It can't hurt to be prepared!<br />
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3. <strong>Install a wood stove.</strong> When the power grid goes down, the winter will be looking very long without heat. Make sure you have plenty of wood, and stack it somewhere handy. No sense having that long argument about whose turn it is to run across the yard in the dark to grab a couple logs, especially if the logs are apt to turn into weapons when you find a Walker in the woodpile.<br />
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4. <strong> Make sure you have clean underwear.</strong> Seriously, keep up on your laundry. Otherwise you're apt to end up wearing smelly old clothes long before you have to. Do you really want to try to do your wash in the local creek? And don't even think of hanging sheets...you could hide a whole hoard of Walkers behind them!<br />
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5. <strong>Check out the local real estate market.</strong> Go for a little drive and decide whose house you plan to commandeer once the zombies have cleared the usual inhabitants. Look for one made of sturdy materials, preferably stone, with a wood stove and small windows you can board up easily. And remember, "Location, Location, Location". You don't want your new stronghold in a too densely populated area. Lots of people means lots of Walkers. I'm looking for one with a nice open lawn that will allow me to see them coming from a long way off...and maybe a moat.<br />
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6. <strong>Fill the pantry.</strong> Make sure you have plenty of canned goods and several hand operated can openers, too. Although, in a pinch, you could try to get a zombie to chew the tops off a few cans for you.<br />
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7. <strong>Make sure you have access to clean water.</strong> A well would be good. Two or three would be better. After all, we all saw what happened to the well at the farm. No Brita filter is going to make zombie flavored water drinkable. I suggest a basement full of bottled water to compliment the wells, just in case.<br />
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8. <strong>Learn a new trade.</strong> When the zombies come, the world won't have much use for accounting skills. Best to take it old school. Learn how to make your own clothes or repair CB radios. Maybe you could memorize morse code in case you need to send your neighbor messages using a flashlight in the dead of night. Something like, "By the way, I just saw a Walker climb in your basement window".<br />
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9. <strong>What about the farewell drugs?</strong> Find out the actual names of any important medications in your life, not just the fancy names the pharmaceutical companies market them under. If you ever have to bust into a pharmacy and load a backpack with antibiotics and morning after pills, make sure you don't go home with diuretics and speeders...although that might make things interesting for a little while, until you're eaten alive, of course.<br />
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10. <strong>Get in shape.</strong> You never want to be the slow guy who gets eaten by zombies while your fit friends make their getaway.<br />
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<a href="http://www.myfreecopyright.com/registered_mcn/BVCHF-5P969-LJECH" title="MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected"><img alt="MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected" border="0" height="38" src="http://storage.myfreecopyright.com/mfc_protected.png" title="Copyright Protected" width="145" /></a>Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-37878506069730440282011-07-04T15:55:00.000-07:002011-07-04T19:34:46.092-07:00Cross Country<a href="http://thewriteandthewrongword.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://img194.imageshack.us/img194/4198/lightningbugbutton.jpg" /></a><br />
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<i>This is written in response to this week's Dare to Share Linkup: For the Love of Country from The Lightning and The Lightning-Bug.</i><br />
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In 1997, I made one of the smartest moves of my life. I quit my job and drove cross country with my friend Carla in my Toyota Tercel. The car barely survived the journey, our friendship didn't, but I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZoYRkVzCZmQ/ThJLfvh_RaI/AAAAAAAAAEg/7CNsAahRBqU/s1600/IMG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="264" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZoYRkVzCZmQ/ThJLfvh_RaI/AAAAAAAAAEg/7CNsAahRBqU/s400/IMG.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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There's no better way to change the direction of your life than to go on a good long trip, or so the theory went. So, Carla and I armed ourselves with some AAA triptiks and a brand new Atlas, loaded the car with clothing appropriate for every climate and an unhealthy selection of snacks and drove out of the freezing Upstate New York winter in search of warmer climes and new adventures.<br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"></span>What we found was a sense of Freedom that I will never forget. Highway after highway, we ran the roads from New York to New Orleans, from San Antonio to San Diego, north to San Francisco and back around via Vegas and the Grand Canyon.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wxV_G4COb9c/ThITjtad_MI/AAAAAAAAAD8/1FxCrIY7-3Q/s1600/IMG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="271" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wxV_G4COb9c/ThITjtad_MI/AAAAAAAAAD8/1FxCrIY7-3Q/s400/IMG.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wxV_G4COb9c/ThITjtad_MI/AAAAAAAAAD8/1FxCrIY7-3Q/s1600/IMG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> </div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Me, hanging out at the Audubon Zoo.</span></div>We drank Hurricanes at Mardi Gras, and ate some of the worst Mexican food ever prepared in El Paso, Texas. We attended amateur strip night at a gay bar in San Francisco, and watched an old woman feed the birds in Seaport Village in San Diego. We saw leucistic alligators at the Audubon Zoo in New Orleans and took a tour of the Alamo. We visited a giant redwood forest, and some old friends we hadn't seen in years.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Dl0Y-amnrbM/ThITGgBWRbI/AAAAAAAAAD0/AomGUBxqE3E/s1600/IMG_0003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="356" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Dl0Y-amnrbM/ThITGgBWRbI/AAAAAAAAAD0/AomGUBxqE3E/s400/IMG_0003.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">All directions in Marietta, GA are given in relation to The Big Chicken.</span></div><br />
There are a few moments that stand out, even better than all the rest. I remember driving on I-10 across Texas and the euphoria that came over me. The long, flat road and open sky stretched out before me like a world of possibility. In that moment, I could feel how limitless my future was, how much there was in the world worth exploring. I think of that moment and I catch a wisp of that feeling again, enough to put a smile on my face all these years later.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Int5gekoM98/ThI1k-V9TyI/AAAAAAAAAEU/F-s0W1n-ByM/s1600/IMG_0009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Int5gekoM98/ThI1k-V9TyI/AAAAAAAAAEU/F-s0W1n-ByM/s320/IMG_0009.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Somewhere in Southern California, we were stopped and asked if we were transporting any fruit or illegal immigrants.</span></div><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"></span>Another highlight was our visit to the Grand Canyon. We approached the canyon through a late February Arizona snowstorm. As we walked along the snow-covered pathways, the fog rising up from the quickly melting snow was so thick we couldn't see more than the dark outlines of trees ahead of us. Suddenly, I realized that the dark shadows were gone. We stopped and squinted into the wall of white as a light wind came through and blew a hole in the fog. There, not ten feet in front of us, was the edge of the Grand Canyon.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gOev5AJlEgw/ThInkpsnyYI/AAAAAAAAAEE/bh_J-JN8LxY/s1600/IMG_0004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gOev5AJlEgw/ThInkpsnyYI/AAAAAAAAAEE/bh_J-JN8LxY/s400/IMG_0004.jpg" width="280" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Watch out for that first step...it's a doozy!</span></div><br />
The Grand Canyon is big. Really friggin big. Big like you can't imagine unless you've seen it for yourself. I looked down into that giant hole and saw the snow at the top gradually disappear into the desert landscape at the bottom, a mile below where I stood. I saw tiny figures moving slowly along narrow paths and realized they were people riding donkeys. There is a sense of awe and majesty that takes over me looking at natural beauty on such a, well, grand scale... I could stare at it all day, with the same ridiculous smile plastered to my face. I wish I could say I had some kind of epiphany, realized something huge about myself, but I didn't. I just stood there in the snow, smiling as the fog lifted and the true expanse of the Canyon became evident. That was enough.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VRykNc4boBw/ThIt5MTIJUI/AAAAAAAAAEM/-8qwFd1yQQI/s1600/IMG_0007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="279" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VRykNc4boBw/ThIt5MTIJUI/AAAAAAAAAEM/-8qwFd1yQQI/s400/IMG_0007.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Oh, the stories I could tell you about San Francisco...</span></div><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">It wasn't all good.</span> <span style="font-size: small;">Carla and I bickered more and more as time went by. I guess it's only natural, spending that much time together. I wanted to keep going, be spontaneous, chase after silly adventures along the way. Carla got tired of the road. She wanted to go home, resume a normal life. I could have lived like that forever, just wandering the world.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Holly Springs, Mississippi earns the dubious distinction of being the worst place we stayed. It was after an exhausting fourteen hours of driving that we saw the sign for the Holly Springs Inn. Sounds nice, doesn't it? We stumbled into our room, hardly able to keep our eyes open any longer. Carla immediately pulled the blanket back on her bed and found blood stains spattered across the sheets. The locks on the doors had obviously been broken and replaced many times and a red sticker bearing the phone number of the local police department was affixed conspicuously next to the dead bolt.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Turning off the lights was not an option as we sensed the scurrying of cockroaches waiting for the cover of darkness. I pulled my car up as close to the window as I could and lay on top of the blankets fully dressed, holding the curtain open just a smidge so I could keep an eye on everything we had in the world. Over and over, all night long, we were treated to the booming bass of a car's stereo as it circled the parking lot. Over and over, all night long, we heard knocking on the door of the next room, followed by a woman's slowly drawled, "Come on in". A short time later, the door would open and close again. Water would run. And then there would be another knock. </span></span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">After a few hours of unrestful laying about, we got back on the road.</span></span><br />
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Our very last day, we were leaving my friend Barb's place in Martinsburg West Virginia when the car wouldn't start. We had to call for a jump, and then keep the car running all day, afraid it wouldn't start again if we cut the engine. All day, we took turns, one of us running into a rest area to eat or use the bathroom while the other stayed in the running car. Finally, we got in an argument over how much the toll was going to be when we got off the Thruway in Albany and that did it. We didn't speak for the rest of the trip, not even as Carla unloaded her luggage at her house and I drove off.<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KuP4J8X00DE/ThIuPeVt5bI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/bzQNdYf4Yg8/s1600/IMG_0001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KuP4J8X00DE/ThIuPeVt5bI/AAAAAAAAAEQ/bzQNdYf4Yg8/s320/IMG_0001.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">Two girls + one Toyota = Trouble</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: left;">Carla and I have run into each other a few times since then, and we've been friendly, but we've never been friends like we were before that trip. I guess we used up our lifetime's allotted friendship in that month and a half on the road.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Still, I feel the good far outweighed the bad and I'm glad to have experienced it...all of it. Even the Holly Springs Inn. I have so many amazing memories and crazy stories to tell because of that trip. I also have a sense of confidence I might never have had if I hadn't undertaken a journey like that. I mean, really, I'm pretty sure I can find my way around just about anywhere, having once managed to find my way all the way across the country and back again</span></span><span style="font-size: small;">.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">That trip is one of the few times in my life that I have gone for it, completely and utterly, holding nothing back and, consequently, it was one of the best experiences of my life. Someday, I still hold out hope that I will have a similar trip around the northern part of the country. There are still plenty of states left to explore.<br />
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<a href="http://www.myfreecopyright.com/registered_mcn/BVCHF-5P969-LJECH" title="MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected"><img alt="MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected" border="0" height="38" src="http://storage.myfreecopyright.com/mfc_protected.png" title="Copyright Protected" width="145" /></a></div>Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-40669183117010407622011-06-24T19:47:00.000-07:002011-07-04T19:33:54.270-07:00Dear 16 Year Old Me<i>This is written in response to The Lightning and The Lightning Bug:Flicker of Inspiration Prompt #5: A Letter to 16 Year Old You</i><br />
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If I could go back in time and somehow talk to my sixteen year old self, what wouldn't I try to tell her? It seems that so many of life's great regrets started way back then.<br />
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I would tell her to break up with the psychopath she's dating. I would tell her that he's even worse than she thinks. How would I explain to her that he will someday come to her house and hold a butcher knife to her throat? How will I convince her to get out now when I know that as soon as she ends the relationship he will begin a campaign of stalking and terror that will last for years? Could I get her to even begin to understand these things? Or that she will get through it?<br />
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How would I tell sixteen year old me that one psycho nut job won't be enough? That she will make some incredibly bad decisions when it comes to dating. That she will have another boyfriend who will cheat on her with one of her supposed best friends and generally treat her like crap...and that it will happen next year?<br />
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Could I convince her that she should just put dating on the back burner? Could I ever make her believe that if she put just a single ounce of her attention into her school work, she could own the world? How do you tell sixteen year old me that "good enough" isn't good enough? <br />
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Sixteen year old me thinks she's seen it all, she knows everything. Her parents have divorced. She has fought with her mother and stepfather and she has gone to court to legally change custody and move in with her dad. She has been humiliated by her classmates, and she has held her head high and laughed in spite of them. She has endured rumors, sexual assaults, and physical and mental abuse from her boyfriend. She went to prom with high gloves to try to hide the bite mark on her upper arm.<br />
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Sixteen year old me passes notes in class and makes a show of not paying attention. She refuses to turn in homework (but sometimes does it without handing it in), and aces all the tests. She's pretty sure most teachers want to strangle her. She likes that. That's how she wants them to feel.<br />
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She presides over her cafeteria table full of boys, the lunchroom her court, she the queen...sometimes handcuffing a loyal subject to the table. At least once, the handcuffs were taken away by the school Principal.<br />
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She is tired already, of having to be strong. She can't imagine how tired she will be by the time she is forty.<br />
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She doesn't think she will live past the age of seventeen. She is sure that AIDS or Nuclear War will have ended the world by next year. She loves the movie Red Dawn and secretly hopes to be a Wolverine.<br />
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She sits in her room and writes poetry, wishing for someone to love her so much that he will hold her and never ever let her go. She wishes for someone strong enough that she can trust them and lean on them and let them know all of the things she fears most...especially about herself.<br />
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If I could go back and talk to sixteen year old me, I would speak to her as her mother. I would tell her to forget about boys for awhile. She would be mad and she would stomp off and slam doors and blast loud music. She would try to sneak out and I would catch her. She would fight me and I would win, because I have her will and I have her strength and I know how hard life has been and how hard it will be later on and I won't let her settle for anything; because in the end, you get exactly as little you are willing to settle for out of life.<br />
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I would make her fight for the right things. I would make her focus on school, stop trying to trick her teachers and start learning. I would push her to do more, to do better. I would find a way to send her away to college. I would make her study languages, all the languages she wanted. She could be an interpreter. She loves languages. She wants to travel. I would tell her that this is the surest way for her to see the world.<br />
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I would warn her that her travelling days will be done for quite some time after she turns twenty and she won't be travelling anywhere farther than Albany for many many years. I would tell her that at forty she will still be dreaming of traveling somewhere exotic and far-away. I would beg her, on behalf of her older self, to do better...to do her very best. <br />
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I would tell her not to start smoking next year, or any year. I would tell her to count up all the money that twenty years of tobacco addiction would cost her and to think about all of the places she could have gone and things she could have seen with that money.<br />
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I would warn her to stop the crazy starvation diets. I would tell her that no matter how little she eats, she simply won't get any thinner. She will, however, give herself an ulcer at the age of twenty.<br />
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I would hug her.<br />
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I would hold her as she fought against me. I would hold her until she gave in and realized that my love for her was real and that I had her best interests at heart. <br />
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If you are anything like sixteen year old me, I hope you happen to read this. I hope you realize that you hold immense potential within you and you are the only force in the world strong enough to stop you from attaining your goals, no matter how lofty they may be.<br />
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Believe in yourself. <br />
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That's what eighty year old me would tell forty year old me.<br />
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<a href="http://thewriteandthewrongword.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"><img src="http://img836.imageshack.us/img836/1093/flickerbutton.jpg" /></a><br />
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<a href="http://www.myfreecopyright.com/registered_mcn/BVCHF-5P969-LJECH" title="MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected"><img alt="MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected" border="0" height="38" src="http://storage.myfreecopyright.com/mfc_protected.png" title="Copyright Protected" width="145" /></a>Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-8684835077019463552011-06-18T12:51:00.000-07:002011-06-19T09:18:47.673-07:00Text and SubtextI used to write a lot of poetry...not so much any more. This one is pretty recent, though, written within the past year. I'm sharing this in response to a writing prompt from The Lightning and The Lightning-Bug. The Challenge today was to share a personal poem, so here it is.<br />
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<b>Text and Subtext</b><br />
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He sent me a text message.<br />
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“Is it over?”<br />
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(whythefuckwouldyoutextmethat?) I thought.<br />
<br />
And didn’t answer<br />
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I mean really, I don’t even have a keyboard on my phone.<br />
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How was I to respond?<br />
<br />
Beep beep beep-beep-beep beep-beep beep-beep?<br />
<br />
(maybe)?<br />
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And that night he asks if I got his text<br />
<br />
(yesyoumoronofcourseigotyourstupidtext)<br />
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What text?, I asked, making a show of looking at my phone.<br />
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This one? Is what over?<br />
<br />
(themoviethebookthegame?)<br />
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Us. Is it over between us?<br />
<br />
(breathebreathebreathe)<br />
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Why would you text me that?<br />
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Is it?<br />
<br />
(justsayyesandbedonewithit)<br />
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Maybe?<br />
<br />
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<a href='http://www.myfreecopyright.com/registered_mcn/BVCHF-5P969-LJECH' title='MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected'><img src='http://storage.myfreecopyright.com/mfc_protected.png' alt='MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected' title='Copyright Protected' width='145px' height='38px' border='0'/></a>Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-70194096088276776122011-06-11T12:32:00.000-07:002011-06-13T17:50:04.199-07:00The Taming of the PewMy husband used to stink. Mainly in the morning, but of course he was not totally devoid of body odor the rest of the day. I used to joke that his stench woke up two minutes before him, so I always knew he was waking by the aroma of weasel ass that would waft from the bedroom, normally reaching my nostrils just as I was about to take a bite of my breakfast quiche, halting my fork in mid-air and causing my stomach to do a somersault.<br />
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The odor was just a part of our lives. Omnipresent, lingering, clinging to the bedsheets, waiting to leap out and take you by surprise like a gassy ninja.<br />
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A few weeks ago, I realized that the stench is gone. Gone. Poof. No more.<br />
<br />
This is a very good thing, mind you. It's just...where did it go?<br />
<br />
Tommy said maybe it was the abscess, but I somehow doubt that abscess was sitting in his head for the past ten plus years. Was it the alcohol? At first I thought the abscence of beer in his diet had something to do with it, but the beer is back and the smell is still gone. Did the antibiotics kill all the stink-causing organisms on his body? Maybe. He's only been off the antibiotics a couple of days and the stink is still noticably absent. Could it be the tobacco? We'll see.<br />
<br />
We'll see because my jackass of a husband has decided to start smoking again. He's out on the front porch stinking the place up even as I type.<br />
<br />
He asked me not to write about his body odors any more, but I asked him not to start smoking or chewing again, so...well, you see the result.<br />
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I am anxiously awaiting the odor of unwashed primates to slowly return to my house. I figure it's only a matter of time.<br />
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<a href='http://www.myfreecopyright.com/registered_mcn/BVCHF-5P969-LJECH' title='MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected'><img src='http://storage.myfreecopyright.com/mfc_protected.png' alt='MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected' title='Copyright Protected' width='145px' height='38px' border='0'/></a>Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3721534916614925909.post-88282301199904778282011-05-29T19:36:00.000-07:002011-06-10T20:18:42.832-07:00This Time Last Year: A Photo Blog<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">This time last year, I was living in Southwest Florida and I had flown back home for a visit. I spent most of the week visiting with friends and family, getting to see everyone I missed, but I also spent a fair amount of time just looking at the place I had called home for most of my life with new eyes.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">When you live in one place your whole life, even somewhere as beautiful as this, you tend to take it for granted. Coming home to visit, I was overwhelmed by how many things I had simply ignored because I knew they were right around the corner. One afternoon, I decided to drive to Pottersville and go to Natural Stone Bridge and Caves, a place I had always known about, but never visited.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XE9bjy7ZTWI/TeL5DVj75II/AAAAAAAAABI/uQvF30PUIgM/s1600/IMG_5020-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="640" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XE9bjy7ZTWI/TeL5DVj75II/AAAAAAAAABI/uQvF30PUIgM/s640/IMG_5020-1.jpg" t8="true" width="425" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Once inside, I walked a short distance down a path and scrambled up a hill to the first of the scenic viewing areas. It took my breath away. After the flatness of Florida, to see the rocky turrain of Upstate New York again was like magic. I stood there for some time, drinking in the view, before heading back downhill, sweating in the unseasonal May heat.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cl_dgYu8cZ4/TeL7IIZ5a8I/AAAAAAAAABM/WYhma9DDvxs/s1600/IMG_5065-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cl_dgYu8cZ4/TeL7IIZ5a8I/AAAAAAAAABM/WYhma9DDvxs/s640/IMG_5065-1.jpg" t8="true" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;">As I walked along the rocky pathways, I was glad of the shade provided by the many trees along the way. It seemed like such a lush, interesting landscape. I wasn't sure how I had made it so far in life without realizing how special "home" really was.</div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aY7sH_2caA8/TeL9Jw2DfFI/AAAAAAAAABQ/iE0EGQN6Fl4/s1600/IMG_5109-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aY7sH_2caA8/TeL9Jw2DfFI/AAAAAAAAABQ/iE0EGQN6Fl4/s320/IMG_5109-1.jpg" t8="true" width="213" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iN-CNAP_jvg/TeL4ScNW-fI/AAAAAAAAABE/hHoWckUgozw/s1600/IMG_5098-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iN-CNAP_jvg/TeL4ScNW-fI/AAAAAAAAABE/hHoWckUgozw/s320/IMG_5098-1.jpg" t8="true" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;">I loved walking down into the cool seclusion of Noisy Cave, listening to the rushing of the water and breathing deep of the damp cave air. I knew it was a well traveled place and that there were others walking the paths just outside, but for a few minutes it felt like my own secret hideaway.</div><div style="border: currentColor;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T-214yoRa6E/TeL9_QzF--I/AAAAAAAAABU/u_692YtNYag/s1600/IMG_5185-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-T-214yoRa6E/TeL9_QzF--I/AAAAAAAAABU/u_692YtNYag/s640/IMG_5185-1.jpg" t8="true" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;">Visiting a place I had never been before in my own "back yard", I felt an overwhelming love for the place I came from and a resolution not to let this feeling slip away. Two months later, I was living back in New York.</div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;">I promise to continue to visit places I may have overlooked and places I had decided I had already seen and didn't need to pay attention to anymore. I continue to be awed by the sight of the mountains that are the backdrop to everything in this part of the world. I won't take home for granted any more.</div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border: currentColor; clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">All photos were shot with my Canon 5D and 24-105mm zoom lens. I used Photoshop Lightroom to adjust color and exposure wherever I felt it was needed.</span></div>Jodi D.http://www.blogger.com/profile/08685986405152298923noreply@blogger.com0