A Delightful Day

This is a poem that was written for Rachel and me by Mama C.C, one the residents at the nursing home we play at. Our hearts are always blessed by her sweet, cheerful disposition. :-)

A Delightful Day

The seventeenth of September

Is a great day to remember;

For me, there can't be any other

Way for childless me to "mother."

Better then to give each special song

I once sang, to two sweet girls, who, long

After I am gone, will sing on!

                                                       Lovingly,

                                                                                                          Mama CC

Overcoming Writer's Block

Crazy buffaloes! It's been over a month since I last posted! I would apologize, but an apology would assume that I have done the world (or at least my readers) a disservice by not posting anything lately on my blog. In reality, I should probably apologize for the many minutes of your life that are wasted when I do actually post something new and you take the time to read it. However, for those of you who actually enjoy reading my blog, I apologize for the few seconds of your life that have been wasted lately when you've checked my blog only to find that there's not been anything new. This post is for you. :-)

So why haven't I posted anything lately? Well, to be honest, I've been busy. And being busy triggers my writer's block. How? Well, anytime I have a good idea to write about, I'm too busy to write about it. And then I forget it. The obvious solution to this problem would be to jot down my ideas as soon as I think of them and then go back later to write about them when I have the time, right? Of course. But the problem runs much deeper than not writing the ideas down as I think of them. . . I can't write the ideas down! I am incapable of writing the ideas down at the moment I think of them. You see, my problem is that my best ideas come at the most inopportune times: when I'm sleeping, walking, or showering.

Sometimes, I wake up thinking to myself, Wow, that was a good idea! I should write about that! But as soon as I think of that, my mind blanks and I totally forget what it was that was such a great idea. I used to be conviced that I never dream. Now, however, I'm convinced that I just plain forget all my dreams. On the other hand, sometimes at night as soon as my head hits the pillow, all kinds of great ideas rush to my mind. I could turn on my light and grab the notebook on my bedstand and write down the ideas as they come to me, but this solution means that I would never get any sleep. As soon as I wrote down an idea and turned the light off to go to sleep, another idea would pop into my head and I'd have to turn the lights on again to write it down. It would be a never ending cycle.

Walking always seems to generate good ideas in my head. Now, you'd think that it would be easy to write down ideas that I think of as I'm walking. Wrong. I am a very uncoordinated person. Walking and writing at the same time just doesn't work for me.

I've also noticed that I think of a lot of good ideas when I'm in the shower. Now, we all know that you can't take paper into the shower for obvious reasons. And by the time I get out of the shower and am all dried off, my ideas have left my head. I guess the obvious solution to this problem would be bathtub crayons. With bathtub crayons I could write my ideas all over the sides of the shower. Might not be a bad idea. . . but then my roommate who showers later could see all my ideas and steal them!! No, bathtub crayons are a bad idea.

Sigh. It seems the best solution to overcome writer's block is to write about writer's block itself. I guess that's what I just did.

New Posts Coming. . .

. . . eventually. I have a list of ideas to blog about, but blogging's not high on the priority list right now. Sleep, however, is.

This Day in History. . .

Okay, okay. So maybe it doesn't classify as history since it was only a year ago and I'm not really a famous or significant person, but one year ago today my wrist looked like this:

I normally don't like to toot my own horn, but what you may not know is that this funky looking wrist is the product of a sacrificial, heroic feat that should someday be included in the history books. On September 13th, 2010, Rachel and I were cruisin' along the trail at Freeman Park on the new Rollerblades my friends had bought me for my birthday. (Well, we weren't both on my Rollerblades; Rachel had her own pair. . . but you know what I mean.) After we had gone most of the length of the trail, we came to a hill. As we were descending the hill in high style, some elderly folks who must've been hard of hearing crossed our path. Not having enough time to stop and not wanting to run over them, Rachel and I risked our lives and purposely crashed into the side of the trail. The old people were safe!! We were heroes!!

Okay, okay. Maybe that's not exactly how it happened. Actually, the funky looking wrist is the product of my fear and stupidity, which is generally not a very good combination. Let's rewind to an hour before Rachel and I set out on our Rollerblading expedition. I was talking on the phone to my mom, telling her that Rachel and I were getting ready to go out Rollerblading.

"Oh, Honey! Do you have a helmet??"

"No, Mom. I'll be fine. I remember your tips on how to safely roll off a sled when I see I am about to hit a tree. I'll bet it works for Rollerblading, too."

"Okay. Well, do you have wrist guards? You don't want to break a wrist. You wouldn't be able to play the violin and dulcimer anymore."

"Mom, I'll be okay. If I fall, I'll make a point not to put my hands out to catch myself."

"How will you catch yourself then?"

"I'll just let my body fall and roll."

"Then you'll need a helmet, dear. I don't want you to break your fall with your head."

"Mom, I'll be fine. We'll go very slowly."

"Okay, Honey. You know I worry about you. Just be careful."

"I will. Love you."

"Love you, too, Sweetie."

So Rachel and I head out on our Rollerblades with no helmets or wrist guards. The trail at Freeman Park is pretty flat, so we were doing pretty well on the Rollerblades. About halfway around the trail, we stopped at a bench because I needed to adjust one of my Rollerblades. I sat down to make the necessary adjustments. As I was doing so, my good friend Melissa sent me a text message:

"How's the Rollerblading going?"

"It's great!! I haven't broken anything yet!"

"That's good! Well have fun and be safe!!"

"Thanks!"

So Rachel and I continue on. Soon we come to a hill. (Yes, I am aware that I have swtiched to present-tense verbs. I feel they are more effective at this point in my narrative.)

"Umm. . . Rachel, do you think we should attempt to go down this hill?"

"Sure. We'll take it easy."

"Rach, I don't know how to use my brakes."

"It'll be fine. I'll go in front."

"O-k-k-kay."

Rachel takes off down the hill. I follow. Rachel is keeping a nice, steady pace. I, however, start accelerating very quickly. Too quickly.

"RACHEL!!!! I CAN'T STOP!!!"

"Calm down, just turn your foot a little and let it drag. It will slow you down."

"AGGHHHH!!!! I CAN'T STOP!!!"

"Kim, don't panic. You're doing great."

"AAAGGGGHHHH!!! THERE ARE PEOPLE DOWN THERE!! I'M GOING TO HIT THEM!!"

"Kim! No, you're not. Just slow down. Don't panic."

"AAAAGGGHHH!! I CAN'T STOP! I'M PANICKING!!"

"Kim, you're being dramatic. Calm down."

"MOVE, PEOPLE!! I'M GOING TO HIT YOU!!! AAAGGGHHHH!!!"

The four, obviously hard-of-hearing old people keep walking, blocking the entire width of the path.

At this point I catch up to Rachel and grab her in a bear hug as I pass her. We both spin around two or three times before hitting the pavement, rolling over one another as we tumble down the hill. We come to a stop at the bottom of the hill, and the old people continue walking, oblivious to the whole spectacle.

A nice man comes running and asks us if we're okay. We start to get up. Rachel gets up almost immediately. I roll over and attempt to push myself up. I get up on my knees and notice that my wrist looks a little funny.

"Oh my. I think my wrist is broken. I think my wrist is broken! It's broken! I just know it's broken!!"

"Kim, you don't know that. Calm down. Just calm down."

"Rachel! Look at it!"

She looks at it.

"Oh dear. Okay. I know where the emergency room is!"

At this point, I'm cradling my wrist while the nice guy and his wife take my Rollerblades off. Rachel runs back to the car to get my shoes. When she returns, I'm up on my feet and we begin walking to the car. I feel very nauseated at this point.

On the way to the ER, I'm trying to hold my cookies and not cry at the same time. When we arrive, we walk up to the desk and I almost pass out. Some nurse gets me a wheel chair and rolls me into triage. The room is very messy and one of the guys rummages through the junk on his desk and finds a magazine that's buried under a McDonald's bag. He wraps the magazine around my wrist and tapes it. Then he asks me a few questions.

"When's your birthday?"

"September 13th."

"Oh, that's today! Happy birthday."

"Thanks."

"What's your height?"

"Five-eight"

"Weight?"

"Mumble, mumble, mumble."

"Allergic to anything?"

"Ragweed."

"Um. Okay. Allergic to any medications?"

"Benadryl knocks me out, but I think that's a normal side effect."

"Um. Okay. Thanks. Does anything else besides your wrist hurt?"

"Nope." (Knowing that I was heading for X-rays next, I wasn't about to tell him that my tailbone was hurting!)

He finishes his questions and says, "Okay. You're free to go."

Umm. . . a magazine?? For a splint?? Are you serious?? What kind of place is this?! I'm going to be charged a  few thousand bucks and they wrap a magazine around my wrist?? Rachel assures me it's just a temporary splint while I'm in the waiting room to go back for X-rays.

As we're sitting in the waiting room, Rachel makes a few phone calls to let people know that we're in the hospital. At this point I'm in a lot of pain. Rachel asks me if she can get me anything. I tell her I'm thirsty. She goes to the front desk and asks for some water. The lady nicely tells her that I'm not allowed to drink anything. That makes me mad.

We wait FOREVER.

A nurse comes out.

"LaShonda Moore?" [DISCLAIMER: This name and the following names are made up.]

We look around. No one is getting up. I pipe up hopefully, "I'm Kimberly Moore."

"No. I need LaShonda Moore."

sigh

Eventually a lady comes running into the room. "Sorry. I needed to get a drink."

(SHE gets a drink?? That's not fair.)

So we continue waiting.

The same nurse comes out again.

"Bertha Moore?"

Again, no one moves.

"I'm Kimberly Moore!"

"No. I need Bertha Moore."

sigh

Bertha hears her name and puts her magazine aside and follows the nurse.

And we wait some more (moore???)

The nurse comes out again.

"Julius Moore?"

No one moves. I look around.

"Are you sure you don't mean Kimberly Moore?"

"No, honey, I meant Julius Moore. Julius Moore?? Is there a Julius Moore in here?"

Julius gets up and follows the nurse.

Sigh. The whole Moore family must be here for some reason. I wonder if maybe it's carbon monoxide poisoning or something.

Finally the nurse calls, "Kimberly Moore?"

"Do you mean me?"

"Are you Kimberly Moore?"

"Yes."

"Then I mean you."

"Good. I'm not related to those other people."

"I know." The nurse rolls her eyes.

I'm pushed back to X-rays. The nurse says it's okay for Rachel to come with me. We get back to the X-ray station. There's some young cocky blonde guy sitting at the desk eating his supper. The nurse informs him he has a patient.

"Good. I'm bored.I need some entertainment."

He pushes me back to the X-ray room.

"So what happened?"

"I broke my wrist."

"How'd you do that?"

"I was Rollerblading."

"Why were you Rollerblading?"

"Um. Because I wanted to."

"Did you fall?"

"Uh, yes."

"You're not supposed to fall."

"Um. I know."

"So why'd you fall?"

"I don't know!! Because I wanted to, maybe?!!"

At this point, I'm getting rather perturbed at his attempts to be funny. I'm in a lot of pain and I just want somebody to do something to make my wrist feel better.

He takes 40 million X-rays of my wrist. As he's looking at the X-rays in the other room, I hear him say, "Woah. That doesn't look good."

"Cool. Look at that!"

"Ooh. Gross. That's nasty."

Again, I panic.

He comes out and and I ask him, "Am I going to need surgery?"

"Definitely."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, yeah. You did a doozy on your wrist."

"When will I have it?"

"Tonight."

"Oh, no! Oh, no! I don't want surgery! I can't have surgery!"

I begin to cry. I've never been to an emergency room, and I've never had to have surgery!! This was not good news. Rachel tells the guy that he is NOT funny.

Finally, the cocky blonde guy takes compassion on me and tries to comfort me. He apologizes for joking around with me when it was obviously an inappropriate time. Another guy (who's much nicer) rolls me into another room where my wrist is examined.

The nice lady in the bright room gives me some pain killers. Those make me happy. Very happy. I ask her if I really have to have surgery tonight.

"What?? No! Who told you that?!"

"The X-ray guy."

"Girl, pay no attention to him. He's a jerk."

Needless to say, I was very relieved. I was even more relieved when my mommy-away-from-home mommy arrived at the hospital. I guess Rachel must have called her. It is comforting to have someone who's like a mom be with you when you're traumatized and your real mom can't be there.

The nurse puts my arm in a real, honest-to-goodness splint, tells me to call the orthopaedic doctor in the morning to make arrangements for getting my bones reset and having a real cast put on, and sends me off with a prescription for pain killers.

So Rachel, Mommy-away-from-home mommy, and I head out to the parking lot (I got to ride the wheel chair again!!) and head off to get my prescription. We get the prescription and take Mommy-away-from-home mommy back to her car. Then Rachel and I head home where Dawn is waiting with my birthday cake:

As you can see, pain killers and chocolate cake make me very happy. The moral of the story? Don't go Rollerblading. And if you do go Rollerblading, make sure you have great friends who will take you to the ER and give you cake when you return home.

In Memory of Dad (May 6, 1948-September 5, 2008)

After visiting my parents in Des Moines in July 2008, my mom and dad traveled back to Memphis with me to stay a few days. The night before my parents were to drive back to Des Moines, my dad and I were on my computer looking at maps to find an alternate route for them to take back home due to all the construction we had encountered on the way down. My mother, having a knack for taking photos at the most inopportune moments (i.e., the subject of the picture is either in pajamas, has bed head, or is in a bad I-really-don't-want-my-picture-taken mood), decided that the following picture would be a good one to take:

"Mom, please delete that picture. We look horrible."

"But, Sweetie, it's a memory. Besides, I won't show it to anybody. I'm not the one who posts pictures all over Facebook."

Who am I to argue with that? :-)

Wow. I am so glad she didn't let me talk her into deleting this picture. Little did I know when we had that conversation that this would be the last picture ever taken of my dad and me together. In fact, that night was the last night I ever saw him. They left for Des Moines the next morning. Just about a month later on the night of September 5, 2008, I received a phone call saying my dad had gone home to be with the Lord.

 

I could go into great detail about that night; I could tell you how I felt, the phone calls that were made, the crying that was done, but there's no need to focus on all that. I was reminded by someone tonight that we are not to sorrow as those who have no hope. Instead of dwelling on what happened that night, I will hope in what the future holds:

But I would not have you to be ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep, that ye sorrow not, even as others which have no hope.  For if we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus will God bring with him.  For this we say unto you by the word of the Lord, that we which are alive and remain unto the coming of the Lord shall not prevent them which are asleep. For the Lord himself shall descend from heaven with a shout, with the voice of the archangel, and with the trump of God: and the dead in Christ shall rise first: Then we which are alive and remain shall be caught up together with them in the clouds, to meet the Lord in the air: and so shall we ever be with the Lord. Wherefore comfort one another with these words. (I Thessalonians 4:13-18)

What a day that will be!!

 

I Like September

September is my favorite month of the year, and not just because it's the month of the anniversary of my birth. :-) There are several reasons I like September.

1. It's the month of the anniversary of my twin sister's birth!! Yay!

2. It has part of my name in it. KiMBERly--SepteMBER. (I asked my mom if she did that on purpose, and she said she didn't. Perhaps she did it subconsciously.) It also has part of septic in it, but we'll overlook that.

3. The fall season begins in September. I love fall.

4. The annual Memphis Dulcimer Gathering and Folk Festival occurs in September!

5. It becomes socially acceptable to begin eating ginger snaps and sipping hot apple cider in September.

6. September is noted for several famous holidays and observances. September happens to be International Square Dancing month, as well as chicken month and honey month. I can't square dance (Grandma can!!), but I like chicken and I like honey. And chicken biscuits with honey is even better. National Fortune Cookie Day happens to fall on my birthday (13th), and it just so happens that I love fortune cookies!!  Grandparents Day is in September, and it just so happens that I love my grandma! Teddy Bear Day is September 9th, and it just so happens that I love my teddy bear! September 6th is Read a Book Day, and it just so happens that I love reading books! Postive Thinking Day is on the 13th, and it just so happens I love positive thinking! September 8th is National Date Nut Bread Day, and it just so happens that I love date nut bread . . . wait, no I don't. Nevermind. Anyhow, there are many other notable days in September, but I'm getting tired of typing them all out, so you can just check this page.

7. September has only 30 days (as do April, June, and November but those months aren't nearly as nice as September). I hate it when there are 31 days in a month. That's just so odd.

Seven is a lovely number, so I think I'll stop there on my list. :-) Happy September, friends!

Good News!!

My coconut conundrum no longer exists! At least the problem with the yogurt doesn't. I went to a Kroger this afternoon, and their store brand carries a coconut creme flavor of yogurt! Yippee Skippy!! I haven't tried it yet, but I have good hopes. Most anything with "coconut" and "creme" in the flavor is bound to be good.