Happy Eight Day!

As mentioned in my last post, I recently came down with a nasty case of bronchitis (my second this winter).  The good/bad thing (depending on how you look at it) is that it happened over midwinter break, so I was off work and able to rest.  I did just that, and felt like I was well on my way to recovery by the time the week was over.  I was still coughing some, and had been for over a week, but it wasn't as bad as it had been.  

Sunday afternoon, as I was cleaning up after making some delicious cupcakes, I started coughing.  It didn't seem any worse than any other coughing fit I'd had that week, but there was one big difference.  I don't know if I just coughed harder than normal or if it was the strain of coughing for a week straight, but an intense pain started to grow in my ribcage.  I tossed it off at first as a pulled muscle or maybe an inflammation, but after a sleepless, painful night, it was clearly much worse.

Monday morning, I bit the bullet and drove myself to Urgent Care.  The whole time, I kept thinking of Brian Regan's Emergency Room routine (below), when he talks about driving himself to the hospital.  I thought of him again as I sat in the room and the nurse asked me how I would rate my pain on a scale of one to ten.  I didn't say eight (though I thought about it!), and instead said six or seven.  The doctor came in, did his tests, and told me what I'd suspected: I'd fractured a rib.  From coughing.  Not from doing something awesome, like wrestling a bear, or doing a sweet jump on a bike, or sky diving.  Nope, coughing.    

One week and several medications later, I'll be honest, I'm tired of having a fractured rib!!  There's not much that can be done for it, so I take medicine, ice it, try to rest, and try not to complain (sorry about failing just now...).  I admire people with chronic pain who bear it with a good attitude.  It just makes me all kinds of crabby!!  In an effort to cheer myself up, I decided I'd go back and re-watch some Brian Regan, and thought I'd invite you to join me.  I have some exciting news I'll post about soon, and a new direction I might be taking this (or another) blog.  In the mean time, here's to a few good laughs!! (Though not too hard...it hurts!)

Dear Polar Vortex...

I don't know what this winter has been like where you live, but here in Michigan it's been soul-suckingly miserable.  So much so that it's made me melodramatic about it all.  Between the bitter, bitter cold of the recurring visits of the Polar Vortex and the snow falling, snow on snow, snow on snow, I've been going a little loopy.

I'm normally not a big winter hater, but this winter has been particularly bad.  I've felt so cooped up inside - it's just tooooo cold to go outside unless you absolutely have to!  I've had bronchitis twice, too, which has been a real treat. I blame all of this on the Polar Vortex, of course. 

In an effort to release some of my anxiety, I started writing letters to the Polar Vortex on Facebook.  Things escalated quickly.  Below is a sampling of my letters to the Polar Vortex, and some other lovely wintry posts.  The PV is back this week, dropping temps once again, and I'm hoping I don't have to take drastic measures.  If anyone wants to fly me someplace tropical I wouldn't say no.  I'd offer a painting in exchange...


January 24:

 January 26:

January 28:

February 1:

February 3:

 February 4:

This is what it's been like here: 

Lyrical Thursdays: In the Bleak Midwinter

Along with new beginnings, the new year has brought a lot of snow to Michigan. We've had quite a bit all winter, actually, but never at a time that would grant us a snow day!  Ah, well.  (**Update: ...Until January 5th, when the snow kept falling, snow on snow...and got us a snow day on the 6th!) 

I was out shoveling and snow blowing earlier as the snow continued to swirl around me, and this song came into my head.  It's such a beautiful one, and the poem by Christina Rossetti is so moving.  The last line says it all - all that we can give Him is our heart!  A great thing to think about as we head into the new year.  Happy Thursday! 

In the bleak midwinter

BY CHRISTINA ROSSETTI

In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,

Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;

Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,

In the bleak midwinter, long ago.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain;

Heaven and earth shall flee away when He comes to reign.

In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed

The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.

Enough for Him, whom cherubim, worship night and day,

Breastful of milk, and a mangerful of hay;

Enough for Him, whom angels fall before,

The ox and ass and camel which adore.

Angels and archangels may have gathered there,

Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;

But His mother only, in her maiden bliss,

Worshipped the beloved with a kiss.

What can I give Him, poor as I am?

If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;

If I were a Wise Man, I would do my part;

Yet what I can I give Him: give my heart.

Sticking to My Strengths

Happy New Year!!!

I hope that your holiday season has been fun and relaxing!  I had a great Christmas with my family, and spent a lot of time resting, relaxing, and eating.  Eating SO MUCH.  New Year's resolutions to diet clearly come from overindulging over the holidays. 

Speaking of New Year's resolutions, several years ago, I took the task of making them VERY seriously.  I wrote down my resolutions, broke them down into manageable tasks, made plans of how to achieve them...and promptly became so overwhelmed with the process that I just chucked the whole thing! I never looked back at those resolutions, and just resolved to do better and be better, generally speaking.  

Since that fateful year, I haven't set many New Year's resolutions.  I set weekly goals, but a yearly goal is a bit much.  I am always trying to improve myself, but have found that I set myself up for failure if I over-think something.  So I keep things simple, like Liz Lemon (I especially like the third one):

 I'm also completely with Calvin here:

I hope that your new year is magical and filled with adventures and wonderful things!!  I'd resolve to be a more consistent blogger, but I'd rather not and then be pleasantly surprised if it happens.  :)

Wibbly Wobbly Timey Wimey

When we picture ruins, the Roman Colosseum or Parthenon in Greece are likely the first things that come to mind - old buildings that are far away, with a rich history that people all over the world know and recognize.  We find these places fascinating, and many spend large amounts of money traveling there and crawling about among the crumbling stones, or buying large coffee table books with their photos and stories.  It seems fascinating, too, that these ruins are just a crumbled stone's throw away from populous neighborhoods and cities - that people live and work and socialize so close to something so historic. 

I read a quote recently that said something along the lines of, "Like the Romans, we are living among our own ruins." Ruins aren't only in Greece or Rome - ruins are popping up all around us as new buildings are built and old ones are abandoned - as the economy struggles and cities and towns and people just don't know what to do with buildings they can no longer use.  They're not necessarily centuries old, but they become old faster than buildings that are cared for.  It's sort of the past and the present coming together - it's "Wibbly wobbly timey wimey," to quote Doctor Who.

I found this to be true yesterday when I visited my old elementary school.  It isn't crumbling down, and has only been out of use for about 4 years, but I was surprised when walking through its rooms to see the empty, sad state of the building.  I was there to pick up some tables I had won in a liquidation auction of the detritus left behind when the building was closed, and took some time to look around and take some photos. 

Emptied-out classroom

Stage in the Cafetorium looking neglected 

Empty shelves and closets

Here is this school, so close to home, with so many memories, that is now empty and forlorn.  It hasn't had power for a while, so the halls and rooms were dark and freezing cold.  It felt like the building had died, and here we were, like the Thénardiers, going through its pockets and snatching whatever jewels we could find.

The good thing for me, at least, is that I knew this building in its prime.  I have wonderful, warm memories that helped me to block out the cold and sad feelings that seeped into me at first.  As I stood in the front hallway, waiting to pay for my tables, I recalled the "Lunch with the Principal" tradition that our amazing, kind principal, Mr. Vandercook started.  We got a special invitation once a year (it was fancy!) and got to eat with him in his office - he was so kind and it was so much fun!  The school also had a competition each year called "T3O Day" - a day we we had to "Totally Turn Off Television."  If enough kids did it, Mr. Vandercook would do crazy things like push an orange with his nose across the cafeteria, or dress as an old lady and sit in a rocking chair on the roof and throw candy to us.  I wish there were more principals like him.

I also remembered that right about where I was standing in the hallway, a kid dropped his lunch tray and chocolate milk spread and mingled with his leftover food.  Moments later our art teacher, Mrs. Walker, came by and said, "Oh look!!  Art!"  That opened up my mind to art in ways I had never imagined - that statement affected me in more ways than she could have hoped. 

Each place held memories for me that I tried to recall as I went through them to chase away the dark and cold.  (Instagramming the photos later helped make them look warmer than they were originally!)  Memories like glorious hours spent in the library discovering favorite authors like Lynn Reid Banks, Roald Dahl, and Edward Eager (to override images of chairs piled up or globes abandoned).

Wonderful, fun memories of lunchtime in the Cafetorium, or the spring Carnival, or the awesome, huge climbing structure once attached to the wall (before they built the new gym at the back of the school), plus the fifth grade talent show performances and school plays.

My amazing fourth grade teacher, Mrs. Fett, who was so kind and taught me so much about being a good teacher, and who took some of us to Dairy Queen the last day of school because we stayed after to help her clean up her classroom.

And then there were parts of the school I'd never seen (like the staff lounge) or hadn't spent much time in (like the newer sections of the school built at the end of my time there), but which held other peoples' memories.

This child-sized wheel chair was just so dusty and creepy and Changeling*-like that
I expected it to start chasing after me...

The hope (for me as well as the school district) is that the school will be bought and put to good use - that its halls and rooms will once again be filled with warmth and that new memories will be made there.  In the mean time, I (and many others) continue to be fascinated with how we just walk away from places that once were so well-used and -loved.  If you want to see more examples, check out my Pinterest board with the same name as this post (link).  I may begin posting more about some of them here on my blog from time to time.

*I mean the George C. Scott movie "The Changeling," from 1980 - a favorite scary movie of mine!

2/12/14 Update:  Sadly the school will not be reopened.  The district has decided that the most economical thing to do is to have the building demolished and to sell the property for residential development.  So sad, but it will be good for the area and for the school district.  All good things...
http://thesalinepost.com/article/saline-board-ed-votes-demolish-vacant-houghton-school

Lyrical Thursdays: The Raven

Happy Halloween!!!!!

In honor of this spoooooky holiday, I thought I would share a spoooooky poem!  When I was in middle school I went through a phase where I decided to memorize the poem, and got most of it down before moving on with my life and promptly forgetting it.  Whoops.  I still remember the first stanza or two!  

This Halloween I decided to honor that adolescent memorization by carving the poet into a pumpkin (the poem is way too long...):

Poempkin

Without further ado, here is Edgar Allan Poe's The Raven, first published in 1845, memorized by a nerdy tween in ~1993:

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels name Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

Lyrical Thursdays: Opportunity

Today's poem is one that I was given by a friend when I was a missionary in Thailand about 11 years ago.  I keep it in my beat-up (well-loved!) copy of the Book of Mormon, in the middle of some of the war chapters in Alma (where two ancient groups battled on the American continents).  It reminds me that attitude and outlook can really affect the way we perceive a situation.

Opportunity

Edward Rowland Sill (1841-1887)

This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream:--
There spread a cloud of dust along a plain;
And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged
A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords
Shocked upon swords and shields.  A prince's banner
Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes.
A craven* hung along the battle's edge, 
And thought, "Had I a sword of keener steel--
That blue blade that the king's son bears, -- but this
Blunt thing--!" he snapped and flung it from his hand,
And lowering crept away and left the field.
Then came the king's son, wounded, sore bestead,
And weaponless, and saw the broken sword,
Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand,
And ran and snatched it, and with battle shout
Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down,
And saved a great cause that heroic day.


If you know me well, you know that I have a deep love for (and mild obsession with) the Harry Potter series.  I recently found J.K. Rowling's companion site to the books, Pottermore, which has a lot of bonus information including extended backgrounds on many characters.  One of those characters is Sir Cadogan, the slightly zany knight in a painting at Hogwarts who helps Harry, Ron, and Hermione find their divination classroom in book three (and pops up again later in the story).

Sir Cadogan and his fat pony

Part of Sir Cadogan's history (copyright J.K. Rowling on Pottermore.com) made me think of the above poem and the message it's telling us:

"Sir Cadogen's most famous encounter was with the Wyvern of Wye, a dragonish creature that was terrorizing the West Country.  At their first encounter, the beast ate Sir Cadogan's handsome steed, bit his wand in half and melted his sword and visor.  Unable to see through the steam rising from his melting helmet, Sir Cadogan barely escaped with his life.  However, rather than running away, he staggered into a nearby meadow, grabbed a small, fat pony grazing there, leapt upon it and galloped back towards the wyvern with  nothing but his broken wand in his hand, prepared to meet a valiant death.  The creature lowered its fearsome head to swallow Sir Cadogan and the pony whole, but the splintered and misfiring wand pierced its tongue, igniting the gassy fumes rising from its stomach and causing the wyvern to explode.

"Elderly witches and wizards still use the saying, 'I'll take Cadogan's pony' to mean, 'I'll salvage the best I can from a tricky situation'."

That last line there says it all.  Sometimes in life we are stuck in a tricky situation, whether of our own making or someone else's, and need to do the best that we can in it without running away.  Or we may think that what we have isn't good enough to win the battles we are waging.  But with the right attitude and outlook, we can "take Cadogan's pony," or grab up that broken sword, and prepare for whatever may come (and maybe give those around us a leg up in the process).  We may not all be Gryffindors**, but we can all find bravery within us to face our battles and, against all odds, win.

*craven |ˈkrāvən| - adjective

contemptibly lacking in courage; cowardly
**Yes, yes, I know.  Nerd alert.  ;)