Go ahead. Make me laugh.

It really does.

Keep it light, peeps!

Life Verse

The White Noise of Winter

I've always been a seasonal sort of woman, embracing each, patient till the next.

In later years, I've become -- well, less patient.  I'm pretty sure it's a vitamn D thing.  The older I get the more I need.  My deficit accumulates, and I suddenly feel an overwhelming sense of suffocation.  Immobile.  Fuzzy-brained.  Apathy and indifference to things that normally captivate me.

The monotony of winter's cold air and the lack of sunlight seem to have a deafening effect on my ability to stay focused, stay positive, move forward.  Beginning as an elegy, it finds crescendo in the increasing frequency of frigid temperatures, dismal gray days, lifeless black and white landscapes blanketed with dry and biting winds, leafless trees, brittle yellow grass -- or no grass at all.  Day after day.  BLEAK and DEAFENING.  A forte of winter's white noise.

Driving home from a job last week, I was thankful to see a cloudless, sunny sky.  Despite the deceiving cold outside temperatures, driving down the highway I opened my sun roof and stretched my face to the sky, lusting for the warmth of the sun's rays on my face.  Drinking down every.glorious.drop.  And with every second that passed, an opaque veil began to lift from my eyes, cobwebs began shredding and loosening from my mind, and deep, stirring energy was restored to every nuance of my being, all negative thoughts dissipating.  Gone.

And for the next several minutes, the white noise of winter was defeated with the distant sounds of spring and summer.....
children's laughter, water splashing, waves crashing, live music on the levee, seagulls squawking...
Enveloped in an allegro of all things summer.

Spring is on the horizon.
Let me just hang on a while longer as I learn to navigate and silence the white noise.

My Life of Check Boxes

Since changing jobs from the courtroom to freelance in June of 2017, the reality is that I definitely do not have the extra time I thought I would have.  Freelance implies flexibility.  Flexibility implies time for ________ whenever I want.  Not so.  But I can't really explain why.

Some of it (a lot of it) is self-inflicted.

So in the freelance world of court reporting, we transcribe everything we write, unlike being an official in the courtroom, where only appealed cases are transcribed for the most part.  Transcribing every single word of every job shapes one into a better reporter for so many reasons.  We see steno that we need to write shorter (for speed) or a different way (for speed and accuracy).  So every day becomes a game, sort of.  What will my accuracy rate be today?  How many steno strokes will be perectly written?  More today than yesterday...than last week...than last month.  And on it goes.  And part of that insanity involves daily practice, over and above what we do on the job.  So we commit (those who strive for excellence) to practice every single day, no exceptions, even when we're sick, or have company, or plans, whatever, we fit it in somehow.  That accountability is the ticket.  As a result, our writing gets better and better with each passing day.  We compete against ourselves.  And this is incredibly addictive, as boring as it sounds.

Example:  I recently began writing the "evalute" family a different way to lessen hesitation and ensure accuracy.  So I use each of those words (evaluate, evaluated, evaluator, evaluation....) in a sentence -- which I get from this amazing online site, sentencedict.com, then record 10-15 sentences of each word into my iPhone, and that becomes my practice for the Daily Challenge that I belong to on this amazing court reporter website.  We mean business.  We don't play around.  We keep track and we commit to this insanity daily.  Over and above our work.

Check.

Next:  I began a commitment last September to learn a foreign language (on my bucket list).  I'm using Duo Lingo, and it is the coolest app for learning!  It's effective and it's fun and it's addictive.  I've learned SO MUCH in such a short amount of time.  My Italian vocabulary is now in the 1,000's, but in reality, that's really not that much.  Or maybe it is.  But the point is:  Ya gotta practice.  Every day.  And depending on how long it takes to get through your daily practice lesson, that can mean anywhere from 15 mins to 30 mins.

Check.

With my recent diagnosis of hip issues, and even before, I realize that I've gained weight -- both from feeling sorry for myself and overeating and from not exercising as much as I used to.  My butt takes up a lot more room in my jeans.  And it's not good.  Not with MY thighs.  And so I've commited to different forms of exercise most days of the week.  That takes time.  But I don't have a choice.  This is my health.  My sanity.   A direct impact on my emotional health.

Check.

So whether I'm at a deposition taking down the record, sitting at home at my desk transcribing the record, practicing so that I can take an even better record; practicing Italian, or working out, all of those check boxes take up far more time than even I realize.

So little time to do so many other things that I crave.  Reading.  Journaling.  Junking.

I do what I can when I can.  And that is enough for now.

After I finished my job this morning, I was heading back to my parking meter and spied a cool new building (not sure how new actually because I haven't been to this town for a while) that was beckoning a visit from me.  The Market.  All right.  I like that.  Inside there were shops, ice cream, restaurants, a brewery with wine and craft beer, a paleo quick-bite place, and maybe a couple others I missed.  The clothing store, called The Hip Eagle, had this yummy chunky charcoal cardigan oozing with texture and style -- half price!  A perfect gift for my daughter-in-law's birthday March 4th.  What fun!  I found myself wandering, wandering, wandering .... looking at things I didn't even want.  Just because it was fun.  I liked this place.  A lot.  I finally had to drag myself back to the car and get my butt home so that I could begin checking off my daily boxes.  (Note to self:  Get back to this place some evening for a craft beer and music on the patio!)

Wow.  What a boring life, right?

It is what it is for now.  But it keeps me busy, focused, challenged, purposeful.  And maybe that's a good thing as an empty nester.  Filling up my life with things that demand my time and attention and help to keep me distracted from the reality that I miss my sons.  I miss being at the lake more.  I miss goofing off in the afternoons (like I used to when we had short days in court).  This is my current chapter.  Every day I go through my list, checking off MY daily boxes.

And it's really NOT so bad.

Rendi ogni giorno

il tuo capolavoro.

(Make each day your masterpiece.)

- John Wooden

Our Amazing Italy Cruise - First Stop, Naples!

Andiamo in Italia!
ottobre 2019

It will take me the rest of my life

to try to put into words

how incredible our cruise to Italy was...

-- our first cruise ever taken! --

and the indelible impressions it left on my heart.  

If I never have another opportunity to travel abroad,

or to cruise to another country,

this would be enough.

It surpassed my wildest imagination.

It began with our flight from Charlotte, to Germany, 

and ultimately to Naples, Italy.

We stayed here.

Grand Hotel Vesuvio,

a seafront hotel overlooking the Gulf of Naples,

the Isle of Capri, and Mount Vesuvius.

We spent the afternoon cruising the boardwalk by the sea,

eating amazing authentic "real deal" pizza at one of the many cafes along the boardwalk,

along with --of course -- wine and beer sampling.

Primo, mangiamo pizza e beviamo vino e birra!

Later we slept off some jet lag

before having cocktails on the rooftop of The Hotel

overlooking the magnificant bay and the intriguing

Castel dell'Ovo

a seaside castle dating to the 12th century,

then having violin-serenaded dinner at Zi Teresa, alongside the entrance to the castle.

Bellissimo!

Bueno notte!

Tell Me Something Good

Warning:  The following is replete with gripes, wails and whining.  

So it all began in June of 2019.   I thought it was a groin sprain/strain/pull -- whatever the difference is  -- THAT!  Very painful,   Limiting.  Annoying.  But I dismissed it as my fault for neglecting to properly warm up before a gym workout.  Surely that's what it was.  My bad.  My fault.  So let's just Google this sucker and figure out how to fix it.  Rest, icing, gentle stretches.  Even tried an awesome groin brace that you wrap around the hips with an adjustable wrap for the groin/thigh area.  Noticeably less discomfort when wearing that thing, but I obviously couldn't wear it to work.  Only leisurely and when attempting to walk.  Gym workouts were out of the question (INSERT ENORMOUS WHINE HERE.)

Weeks, then months passed with not a lot of improvement.  Some days the pain was worse.  I just assumed I had overdone it, maybe walking too fast, or too long, or uphill, or upstairs, or maybe just on my feet for too long ... or maybe ... what?  Probably something I'm doing wrong.

It should be healed by now.

By mid September I was starting to get plenty pissed off.  Enough.  I need my life back.  I missed my gym workouts, my HIIT cardio and SS cardio and my lower body weight training, all a huge part of my life that I had missed terribly.  And it was beginning to affect my moods.  It was time to see someone.  And so I began with an orthopedic massage therapist, one who came highly recommended.  Long story short, the massage helped greatly, but was short-lived.  The pain would return within a few weeks after the massage.

I continued trying to self-treat, mixed with massage, leading up to our trip to Italy in October -- which I simply must take time to blog about that cruise, but I fear I'll be at a loss for words, which is why I've not done it yet.  Simply and utterly breathtaking.  Everything.about.it.was.amazing. 

I digresss...So upon my return from Italy I make an appointment with a physical therapist, hoping that through their instruction and therapy I could do the RIGHT things and avoid the WRONG things to help speed recovery along.  It had been nearly six months.  And the pain at times would wake me up at night.  Our groin muscle is what we use to get out of the driver's seat.  Something one takes for granted until it's screaming in your face daily:  Ouch, don't do that.  It hurts.

After seven trips to PT, with some but not a lot of improvement in my range of motion and pain, she suggested we get an X-ray to rule out something more serious.

My doctor's office called the day after the X-ray with the results:  "The report shows mild to moderate osteoarthritis of the hip.  We have referred you to an orthopedic physician for a follow-up appointment to meet with him and discuss what exercises you will need to do to limit the pain and improve strength."

I was not convinced.  I know that X-rays don't lie, but I found it hard to believe that that was the reason for all of my pain.  My hip only ached occassionally.  It was the muscles in my groin where I was experiencing the most pain.  What about my groin!?  Something's not right here.

Finally after getting in to see the ortho doc yesterday, I was hoping he could shed light on my questions and I would hear something positive, some formula, shot, medication, exercise plan that would "fix" my groin, and I'd worry about that mild to moderate arthritis stuff later.  How bad can it be anyway.  So, c'mon, doc, tell me something good.  Show me how to get my life back.

There was no plan.  No shortcut.  No pill or shot or exercise that was going to FIX my groin pain.  My groin pain was unfortunately the genesis of the diagnosis.  I have osteoarthritis of the hip, manifested in pain and limited range of motion of the groin.

My options are these:  Prescription strength ibuprofen 3x daily, daily prescribed PT stretches to regain strength in my atrophied muscles in my thigh, yoga, elliptical for cardio -- or walks on flat ground, no hills.  When the ibuprofen stops working, we can consider steroid injections into the hip every three to six months.  Inevitably I will need a hip replacement.

WTH?

And all of this time, all of these years of dedicated workouts, strength training, regular cardio, all that I had read about how this will prolong life and promote longevity and a healthy lifestyle as we age and avoid expensive meds and hospital stays and surgeries -- take care of your body, work out often, make weight training a part of your life, eat healthy.  It wasn't enough .  Apparently osteoarthritis is a genetic thing, or can be.  

Does this mean I give up on working out?  Hell no!  I just have to significantly modify my approach to strength training.  No more heavy weights.  No lunges. No heavy-impact cardio/exercise at all.  No more HIIT circuits.

My new friend (and resurrecting an old one, Callanetics) will be Yoga.  I've ordered the Yoga Burn DVDs.  I'm well familiar with Callanetics and they're very similar to Yoga, but I want to embrace and learn as much about Yoga as I can.  This will become my new norm, my new path to wellness.

Strange as it sounds, when my mind wanders back to my days at the gym, busting my butt, getting high on endorphins and pumping iron and all the insanely crazy highs and happiness that went along with that era of my life... I feel a deep sadness.  That chapter has ended.  And I'm just sad about it.

Time will heal the emptiness I feel.  I'll pour myself into learning this new way of living.  It will be good.  I choose to find the good in my next chapter.  My attitude, my outlook, is a choice.

Reflections of Light and Depth and Soul

My eyes open to look for light...

Is that light...
is it morning...
or is that reflections from the streetlight peeking through the blinds?

I feign consciousness.

It is so faint, the light.  It is morning.  Barely.   A new day.

Like a pogo stick, my mind jumps from one thing to another, trying to remember my to-do list for this last Friday of January.  Oh, but first:  COFFEE.

I pad downstairs, spying my charcoal and cream, insanely warm fleece pullover.  Instant coziness. Harkening winter birds outside the sunroom remind me again -- yes, I hear you, little ones.   It IS morning.  Sing on, friends.  Sing with soul.  Acoustic has long been my favorite.

I light a candle.  And then another.  Keep it coming -- flickering delicate light that visually warms and comforts me -- so I light more.  Reflections.  Winter.  The perfect canvas for reflection.

Making it to the post office (why must the postal worker be so chatty when there's a long line of waiting customers, can the story of her aunt in Ohio wait?), then off to pick up a few muchies for the upcoming Super Bowl.  And Stella Artois.  My football beverage of choice.

It's been a quiet last fews days of unplanned solitude for me.  Rediscovering my lost passions ... painting.  Creativity.

Rummaging through my inventory of paints, stains, waxes, brushes -- all things art -- I collect an array of colors for my experiment.  Black, canvas white, burnt sienna, urban bronze, camel.   They will play quite well together.

It is DEPTH I'm going for on a tired but promising mirror hanging in the stairwell.   I should have taken a "before" -- I almost always forget.   From a pale two-tone gloriless gray that did NOT pop, to this........

Depth.  Soul.  Rugged.  Acoustic, even.

If my mirror had a voice, it would be raspy and mesmerizing.  Like Ray LaMontagne.  (Oh, what a voice)

Mission accomplished.