hope with ataxia

that's where I am living these days...

www.hopewithataxia.blogspot.com

back in the saddle again.

Even as I post this photo I am laughing. I guess it's better than crying. I haven't been on a bike for over 15 years. And the saying isn't true...my body has absolutely no recollection of how I should ride a bike. I was a bit over zealous the first ride and it took about 2 hours to go 10 blocks. I have the bruises to prove it and if I could walk, I'd be bull-legged.
Sting ray handle bars and a tricycle...interesting combination.

a bit backwards...

I started a writing group this summer and now I freaked myself out to write on this blog.
Not sure that's how I thought it would work.

I also started another blog.
Not sure that's how it's suppose to work.

I am still alive and kickin'.

www.hopewithataxia.blogspot.com

Barely.

an onion?

I use to be one of her favorites. It saddens me to speak of it in the past. She use to walk to me with arms extended and be perfectly content to sit on my lap and go for a ride. I use to be able to calm her when nothing else seemed to work. Now she screams hysterically and flares her body if even the slightest move is made in my direction. My phone use to ring which ended in voice mails of her sweet innocent voice whispering, "I love you, Holly" and her mom adding that she had been talking about me all morning. Now when her mom asks if she wants to talk to me she replies "No!"
I use to be one of her favorites. When she sneezed her mom would say, "God bless you, Lauren!" and she would respond, "No momma, bless Holly!"
Her parents tell me not to take personally. They call it a phase.
I call it heartbreaking.

She did ask about me at the Farmer's Market this past Saturday. And before I hung up the phone with them, I was on my way to meet them. My secret longing was that the phase was over. However Lauren was much more into this red onion than me.
Yes, an onion.

friends and firepits

The other night I was in a "funk". I call it a funk-a-runk. These times are not fun. I don't like being me when I travel through these.
I know by now it will pass. I just need to make wise choices when I allow my feelings to control me.
So, after a day of losing the power and going down the slippery slope, I took D dog for a long walk.

It's so fun knowing God has my back when a funk-a-runk night turns into an evening among friends and fire pits. True healing.

And even more joy when I noticed Anika peaking over our heads in the photo. Hilarious.

how not to parent

We've all heard the saying or even said it ourselves..."if you can't say anything nice, than don't say anything at all."...
Not sure the mom I overheard yesterday in the hallmark shop as I was picking out a 80th birthday card was brought up with the same conviction. This is the following conversation I heard over the card display between a mom and a 4 year old son:

"Mommy, I'm hungry."

"Aaagggghh, Tommy, you are not hungry. Look at your stomach. See how fat you are?! You are NOT hungry."

I should have slipped the boy my business card. And we wonder why kids have low self-esteem.

Speaking of self-esteem, mine certainly was under attack yesterday as I trucked on down for an iced coffee after the card shopping. The following conversations happened within seconds of each other:

A boy probably 4 or 5 was walking ahead of me with his mom when he caught Delsie out of the corner of his eye. From that point on he would turn his head around attempting to maintain his walk forward. At any moment I thought the kid was going to stumble on the concrete sidewalk. The mom was oblivious to the whole thing until they reached their parked car.

"Come on, bud."

He now completely stopped and is staring at me.

"Buddy, come on!"

The mom notices he is staring at me and is obviously embarrassed.
The boy still staring and not budging, points at me with an extended arm and says loudly, "Is her legs broken?!"

Curious as to how this inattentive mom going to respond, I smile while staring back. She scoops the boy up and stuffs him in the car and quickly shuts the door while answering, "yup."

In my meek opininion, she missed two teachable moments with her son.

It's not IS her legs broken, it's ARE. Legs are plural.

hair today...and tomorrow

Seriously. My dog should be bald with the amount of hair she sheds.

And if she could talk she would tell you the same thing about me.

We are quite a team.

I snapped this photos out of disbelief of her bed the morning after I brushed her for an hour with the furminator. Yes, the furminator. One hour.