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 |  Fibro fog, pain, writing sandwiched in between. Quotes. Sermon notes. Encouragement. |
A Texas Sunrise  A friend, William Taylor, took this picture. He visits Surfside Beach with his dogs almost every morning, watching the sun rise while the dogs prance about at the water's edge. This is only about ten miles from where I lived in Lake Jackson, Texas. Sadly, I only visited this beach about four times in the six years I lived nearby. Each day is a challenge. A challenge to get by without thinking about the fibromyalgia pains. A challenge to stay awake when chronic fatigure wants to take over. And a challenge to navigate through fibro fog. I haven't been writing as much as in the past. For years, I wrote at least 500 words a day. Now, I'm lucky if I write 500 words in month. Sigh. For more information about what my day (or life) is all about with fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, chronic pains, IBS, depression and everything else thrown in, check this out:
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| In the 1700s, the average lifespan was 34 years. Benjamin Franklin lived for 83 years. Shouldn't we be copying what he did?  "My Favorite Neighbor"  "Sharing Sunshine...It's What I Do!" "Admirable Women" "Whose Work Are You Stealing?" "The Potter's Cup and Saucer" |
| Black history month is almost over. Have you ever studied Langston Hughes? If not, I suggest that you do. Here's a sample of his poetry. Hold onto dreams For if dreams die Life is like a broken-winged bird That cannot fly. Hold fast to dreams For when dreams go Life is a barren field Frozen with snow. Langston Hughes |
| My mom used to sing a song about the word "can't". In our house, you were not allowed to say that you couldn't do something. She sang, "I'll never, ever say I can't. I'll always say I'll try." The other word that we couldn't say was "hate". We definitely were not allowed to hate people. We could hate their actions, but not them. We were allowed to dislike foods, but only after we had tried them. And even then, we had to try them again periodically, in case our tastes changed. I tried to instill these same ideas in my son's growing years. And, yes, I did sing the song to him.  ****In 1902, an aspiring young writer received a rejection letter from the poetry editor of The Atlantic Monthly. Enclosed with a sheaf of poems the 28-yr-old poet had sent was this curt note: "Our magazine has no room for your vigorous verse." The young poet rejected the rejection however, and went on to see his work published. His name was Robert Frost.***** We can't give up. We must always try.  "My Favorite Neighbor" "Sharing Sunshine...It's What I Do!" "Admirable Women" "Whose Work Are You Stealing?" "The Potter's Cup and Saucer" |
Today is Lincoln's birthday. Baby boomers used to celebrate it. We all had artwork of Lincoln's silhouette. |
Fantastic. A few days ago, my junk mail thought that it was time to celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah. Today, junk mail is wishing me a Happy New Year. |
| Something weird is going on. All of my junk mail - here, at Yahoo mail and at Google mail - suddenly thinks that we're back in the Christmas and Hanukkah season. How bizarre. |
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