TUESDAY TUNES: Help Me Find It

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CsjZ94K7UQs

This was my theme song for last summer…

I became unemployed and homeless all in one weekend in the spring of 2013.  So in June I found myself on a plane headed for Tennessee to spend the summer with some good friends working as their nanny.  I also needed to clear my head and figure out what was next.

 As I drove around beautiful Franklin, Tennessee with its green cotton-ball trees, Sidewalk Prophets’ song “Help Me Find It” always seemed to be on the radio every time I needed it to be. 

It was my story...

“I don’t know where to go from here, it all used to seem so clear.”

”If there’s a road I should walk, help me find it.”

 And the comfort of…

“For every step, I’ve never been alone.”

 

“Even when it hurts You’ll have Your way, even in the valley I will say, with every breath You’ve never let me go.”

 If I was alone in the car I would sing it at the top of my lungs! But one evening the song came on while I was driving the girls to dance, or to eat, or to a friend’s house or to something.  I said, “Oh, I LOVE this song.  It’s my theme song.”  They asked me why, so I started singing along with the words like I was telling them my story.  When it got to the words “You’ve never failed before” I had to turn my head and fight back tears, because He never has.

 Right before that phrase are the words, “I will wait for You.”  That’s the hard part!!  But I’m learning to “Be Still and Know (remember) that He is God.”  These are not new concepts for me.  It’s just when you find yourself in a difficult situation you learn them all over again.

 Ten months later I’m still a bit in limbo.  But, He’s never failed before!  That’s all I need to know.  So even though I don’t know where to go from here, I will wait for Him.  And He won’t fail me this time either!

The Lap Dance

Opie

Friday night my friend Stacy and I were two wild and craaaazy single gals out on the town to hear our friend’s band play. They are called Opie and if you ever have a chance to hear them you should go. However, I hope you have a more pleasant experience than we had the other night.

When we walked into the bar we saw a couple exchanging saliva rather rigorously, so we steered clear of their table. It was somewhat difficult since it was smack dab in the middle of the floor. They didn’t seem to care that their tender moment of intimacy was being played out in front of everyone. I attributed that to all the empties on their table. And those made me wonder if they had just met.

Now being somewhat of a good girl (I say somewhat cuz I did have my twenties) I couldn’t help thinking this behavior was a bit, well, embarrassing; disgusting; crude; high schoolish; gross! Soon their make out session began to progress more into the realm of a lap dance. Having never really seen a lap dance before, I can only assume this was one. I can also see why a man would enjoy one. This man certainly was anyway.

He was quite a bit older than his lap buddy so I’m thinking she may have been playing out some Daddy issues; which is really pretty sad when you think about it. There were also some girls dancing in front of the band. I’m sorry, but there is just not enough alcohol in the world to get me to do the “drunk white girl dance” in front of a crowd.

After standing for quite a while and spilling my drink on my shoe we finally gave in and took the only two chairs left in the room. I say gave in because they were at the lap dancers’ table. There were three chairs and since they were only occupying one, we moved in. I thought if I just kept my gaze toward the stage I wouldn’t notice the X-rated action on my right. But it was really hard to not look. Like when you see an accident and you just can’t look away.

It was just amazing; arms were flying around and clothing was all askew. I can’t really tell you what her shirt looked like but I can describe her bra in detail. I was shocked they were behaving that way in front of everyone. But then again I don’t get out much.

She was in every position possible on his lap that there could be (or at least that my imagination could come up with). She was up, she was down, she was all around. She would do him in a house; she would do him with a mouse. She would do him in a box; she would do him with a fox.

We moved the table closer to us, not to give them more room, but to make it more apparent that we weren’t with them. At one point he was reaching for his beer and couldn’t find it, I assume because his eyes were otherwise occupied. I nicely slid the table over for him to grab his beverage. I’m nothing if not polite. After his refreshment he went back to business.

It was then that things really started to heat up. With the table further away, it gave her the leverage she apparently had been missing. She put her hands on the table and went to town. Somehow his arm came up under mine and it was then that Stacy and I grabbed our purses and joined the fans storming the stage.

I guess I am just too sheltered. And I’m okay with that. Other than the two of us no one seemed to give the lap dance couple a second thought. Or at least they didn’t stare like we did. I couldn’t get outside fast enough once the music was over. Ewwww.

I prefer my sheltered church girl life over public displays of lap dancing. But the music was good. Maybe I’ll just stick to their CD’s.

Question: My goodness, I can’t even come up with a question for a blog focused on lap dancing! Got any?

Paying it Forward

Last Saturday night I had a Haley Joel Osment moment: I got to Pay it Forward.

A good friend called and said she needed to go to the Emergency Room and that I, of all her friends, would understand the late night call and take her. She was right. After making two similar phone calls in recent months I was more than happy to oblige.

I was also able to share some of the newfound ER etiquette I learned from my experiences:

1. Throw up in front of as many of the staff as you can. That way they know you are serious. Plus they don’t want you throwing up in front of any other patients in the waiting room. It may start a puking frenzy as seeing someone else throw up tends to make you wanna hurl as well.

2. Sleeping on the hospital floor is not a good idea. Besides the fact that it is covered in who knows what kind of germs, the staff may think you are drunk and just need to sleep it off, leaving you untended to for hours.

3. To ward off “the shakes” take several deep breaths. But make sure they bring you the heated blankets before doing so. You don’t want to miss out on that little piece of heaven.

4. Even though your nausea may be subsiding, do not say no to more anti-nausea meds. All it takes is one standing up moment to send you to Pukesville again.

5. Remember that your gown is open in the back and that you are not wearing any underwear. Enough said.

6. Never feel bad for calling a friend late at night to take you to the Emergency Room. You may be robbing them of the chance to help someone in need, which is always a good thing.  That is what God had in mind...a friend loves at all times...11 a.m. or 11 p.m.

Question: Have you ever made one of those phone calls? Or been the recipient?

Christmas Gifts

I think I ate a year’s supply of chocolate over the last two weeks. Have I mentioned I love chocolate? I must have because I received lots of it as gifts. I ate every last bit as well as all the fudge and other luscious nummy-ness at parties and on the counters at school and church. I will have to work doubly hard in the new year to work it all off (she says laughingly as another Hershey kiss is plopped in her mouth).

Chocolate is always a good gift for me no matter what the occasion. But one of my favorite gifts this Christmas was from the hugs of former students as they visited church over the holidays. Some of these kids I only see once or twice a year, so as they arrive home from college with diamond rings on their left hand ring finger I see how quickly time is passing by.

It was also a great gift to watch some of my current Junior High students as they sang in the adult church choir. As one 7th grade girl I’ve known since Kindergarten sang out her solo among all the grownups I got all misty eyed and couldn’t stop smiling.

Spending Christmas morning with my 17 year-old niece was another great gift. Watching her open her stocking, I pictured her as a little girl again with curly locks instead of the hair she works so hard now to straighten.

But, I have to say my most favorite of all, first place winning Christmas gift this year was the fact that my church partnered with a Presbyterian Church for a Christmas program mid-month and shared Christmas morning service with a Baptist congregation. Yowsa! Imagine that, different churches with differing theologies getting together to celebrate Jesus. Whee!!  Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.” Amen and Hallelujah!

Question: What were some of your favorite gifts this Christmas?

Survivor Finale

A great tradition I have is watching the Survivor Finale with my friend Linda and the wonderful Stewart Family. We’ve shared countless snack food filled finale nights cheering on our favorite survivor who out played, out witted and out lasted all the others.

This season my favorite was Coach. Now granted, his other two seasons I found him rather annoying, but I gravitated towards him this time around. There was something different about him on his third try for the million even though I did find his use of the words integrity, honor, family and Christian rather hypocritical.

To me Survivor is A GAME and if you have to lie, cheat and steal to get to the end then so be it. I’ve had many a scratched hand and nearly broken finger while playing a rousing game of spoons, so a little dishonesty would be nothing in a game for a million buckaroos.

I auditioned for Survivor back in the spring of 2009. I was a children’s minister at the time and I said in my audition tape, “My biggest fear is that I will drop some f-bombs or that my bathing suit top will go askew on national television and I will have to quit my job.” I did tell my senior pastor, since I considered Survivor to be a game, I would stop at nothing including lying and cheating to win the million dollars. He said as long as I planned on tithing he saw no problem with my tactics.

One of my least favorite contestants this season was Edna. That was until she spoke up during the final jury. Then she rocked and won my respect. To summarize, she basically told the jury, all the ones who had been voted off, you should be prepared to be duped when you sign up for a show like this. So, hats off to the final three cuz they did the duping and out lasted all the rest. And after all, isn’t that the point?

I think I will audition for the show again. If I get on maybe I can meet Coach. Because you see, unfortunately I now have a crush on him.

Question: You a fan? If yes, who was your favorite? Do you think Coach and I would make a good pair?

3D, Schmeee D

During the ’80’s when everyone else was buying CD players and selling off their turntables at garage sales, I was a holdout for records. I didn’t want the tiny, frustrating to open CD’s. And I also didn’t want to start my music collection all over again. I mean, I had been through it all before with 8-tracks and cassettes. But Albums were my favorite and they had lasted through the switch over with both types of tapes so I figured they weren’t going anywhere. The last one I bought before I finally gave in was Whitney Houston’s I Wanna Dance with Somebody. Loved it, loved her. Now I find her a bit scary.

Another holdout for me has been 3D movies. I remember going to them over 20 years ago with the paper glasses that never stayed on and tickled my nose. I never even saw Avatar in 3D. Even though everyone was saying, “Oh you have to see Avatar in 3D. It’s soooo much better,” I never gave in to the 3D phenomenon. That is until last Friday night. I, along with two adult friends and their combined five children, went to see Hugo in 3D. It was also available in 2D or regular D, whatever it is called, but we opted for the 3D because it was showing at the best time.

It seems that a high percentage of recent movies are available in 3D and I think I know why. It’s not because it makes it so much more exciting. No, it’s because they charge an extra $3.50 for the luxury. After two and a half hours of Hugo in 3D all I can say is, “I want my money back.”

The movie was cute and all but not worthy of spending my evening wearing stupid, annoying glasses just to see the images in a way that makes me want to reach my hand out and touch them. Which, by the way, brings about teasing from those around you if you do. I could see it if it was an action packed movie, but it wasn’t. Hugo is basically a movie where a little boy goes around winding up clocks in a train station. Well, actually it’s more than that but I don’t want to ruin it for anyone.

And, since I know it’s just a movie and not real life, I don’t really need the added 3D effect. It doesn’t enhance my movie going experience enough to make me want to spend an additional $3.50 to an already expensive evening, what with the markup on popcorn and coke.

And why the glasses? On Survivor the other night, they showed the remaining tribe members a phone with 3D you could see with the naked eye. So, if technology allows it on a tiny phone, why not on a big movie screen?

Question: 3D or regular D?

Happy Thanksgiving

Today is Thanksgiving. Or to be more exact, today was Thanksgiving. I was in charge of all things potato: mashed and sweet. And when I say sweet, I mean sweet. Every ingredient I put in nullified any nutritional value in the sweet potato. I was going to go the healthy route but my niece requested my casserole with the mashed up sweet potatoes mixed with sugar, brown sugar, butter and other fattening things with a mixture of brown sugar and walnut yumminess on top.

I began the day with brunch at my place with a few friends. Stuffed Baked French Toast topped the menu. It was a fun way to begin the day. When I got home from dinner with my family this evening I felt like I had either been cooking, eating or washing dishes all day. But that’s okay. I enjoyed every minute.

My oldest sister Robin, the family historian, likes to make cards and scrapbook. She greeted everyone with a nice Thanksgiving card and poem. My other sister, Chrystal, you know the one who left me stranded with pancreatitis :), likes to play games. She had everyone write down a few things they were thankful for and then we had to guess who wrote them.

Most of the thankful notes mentioned family and friends. One said chocolate. And no, that one wasn’t me. I said I was thankful for my family, friends, that I had a job and a place to live.

This has been a very difficult past six months for me, but I am not complaining. God is good and I am grateful. Very grateful. Forever grateful.

Hope you had a wonderfully thankful Thanksgiving.

Question: How did you spend your Thanksgiving?

From Here to Maternity

I have been to the maternity ward of many a hospital visiting friends and their newborns. I have also been blessed to see a friend’s child actually come into this world while in a maternity ward. But never in my unmarried, childless life have I ever been a patient in a maternity ward. That is until now.

Monday I told you about my ER visit last August. Well, when Nurse Sheryl found out the next day that I had not been admitted to have my gall bladder removed she was appalled. She said, “But you threw up in front of EVERYONE; the triage nurse, the nurses back in ER, the doctor, EVERYONE! She assured me at HER hospital they would have done surgery that night.

Instead, my lovely insurance plan hooked me up with a surgeon that was booked out until mid-October. So, for the following two months, I was very careful (for the most part) about what I ate. I had a few smaller attacks during the wait but they just suggested more Vicodin. It never helped and just made me nauseous. It made me wonder how folks get addicted to that drug. I was hoping for at least a little buzz or something! But nothing.

Back in the ER, five days shy of the scheduled surgery, I did my duty and threw up in front of EVERYONE again. Sheryl would have been so proud. This time I was admitted. I got to my room around 4:00 a.m. and was sleepy as well as in a pain med fog, but I was really impressed. My private room was huge and had a bed for my friend to sleep in. I felt so fortunate to be in a five star hospital. It was only later that I found out I was actually in the maternity ward because there was no room at the inn for me down in the regular surgical ward.

The only thing worse about the teasing I received from being in the maternity ward was that it was right next door to the psych ward. I was either scandalizing the church by getting myself knocked up or finding my rightful home among the rest of my crazy peers.

I always thought if I was in tremendous pain while in a maternity ward I would at least get to come home with a baby. But instead, I was the proud mommy of a gallbladder. I was also the proud mommy of a very angry pancreas that kept the surgery at bay for a few days. (A nasty gall stone got loose and lodged itself in the duct leading to my pancreas. That’s not a good thing!)

People always say that hospital stays are very annoying. I did not find that to be the case. I LOVED my nurses, CNA’s and even my phlebotomists. They say you can never get any sleep while you’re in the hospital because they are always coming in and checking your vitals, etc. I didn’t mind. And the bed was soooo comfortable.

When I got back home I thought to myself, “Where is the button that makes my bed go up and down? This bed sucks!” I also missed my nurses. “It is two o’clock in the morning and I have absolutely no idea what my blood pressure is. And can anyone tell me what my oxygen level is please?” I missed being fussed over.

So I was pampered for five days in my first hospital stay. I eventually made it down to the regular wing, but I will always remember my stay in maternity!

Question: Have you ever stayed in the hospital? Was your experience pleasant? (Other than the whole pain or illness reason for being there in the first place.)

A Sister in Need is a Sister in Deed

This past August 8, a Monday evening, at approximately 7 pm, aliens invaded my body, lit a campfire and shot each other with darts causing me the worst pain and nausea I have ever experienced.  Having grown up with a sensitive stomach I’ve spent many an hour vomiting after consuming rich or high fat foods.  Since I am not Jerry from Seinfeld or Ted from How I Met Your Mother I have no proud record of how long it has been since the last time I vomited.  It has happened all too often during my lifetime.

But as I was puking up my toes for the 3^rd time that evening, I said to myself, “Something is worse this time, but how handy it is that my sister lives just upstairs.  I shall give her a call and have her drive me to the emergency room.”

So I called.  And called.  And called again.  Her car was in the driveway so I assumed she was home.  I went to her front door and rang the bell.  And rang.  And rang again.  And cried.  And through up some more.

Then I remembered she was attending the Bible Study next door.  So I went, shaking and sweating with puke bowl in hand, and knocked and opened the door.  “I need Chrystal,” I sobbed.  “She’s not here tonight.  What’s wro…?”  But before their final words were spoken I was headed back to her front door for one last try.  Ring, ring, ring.  Still nothing.

Sheryl a nurse friend of mine lives nearby and I gave her a call.  She arrived in no time and I was on my way to the hospital.  Yea Sheryl.

They took me right in and gave me some morphine.  Hmm…Strange sensation intravenous drugs.  You can actually feel it ooze through your body with an, “I can see why people do this recreationally,” thought or two as it does.  Alas, this first dose helped only slightly, but enough for me to lie still.  I had to wait before they could give me more.  After a couple of hours, I suggested Sheryl call another friend, Linda, to tag team with her.  Linda didn’t have to work the next day and I wanted Sheryl to get some rest.  Linda arrived and Sheryl went home.  But not before reminding the nursing staff I needed my fluids bag replaced and that it was time for my next round of morphine.  It’s great to have a nurse for a friend.

Being in a pain meds haze I can’t remember exactly when Chrystal texted but I do remember the content.  It went something like this:  “Hey, what ya doin’.  I’m in the backyard on the trampoline.  It’s a beautiful night.  Come out and enjoy it with me.”  I handed the phone to Sheryl, or was it Linda at that point, don’t know.  Whoever it was called her and told her where I was. 

Turns out Chrystal had been upstairs in her bedroom the entire time, with the air conditioner on causing her not to hear the phone or doorbell. 

I will have to share the ins and outs of the reasons why they didn’t take my gallbladder out that night and why I had to wait two months for the surgery in Thursday’s post.  But fast forward from August 8 to October 14…

Around midnight the Friday night before my scheduled surgery on the following Tuesday, the aliens were back and I wound up on the bathroom floor again.  This time it was much worse and I felt pain in the same place as well as just to the left and in my back.  So, once again, I called my sister upstairs; no answer.  She was obviously sleeping with her phone off.  I had texted her a few hours earlier telling her I wasn’t feeling well and received no answer then as well.  So, wasting no time, I called my friend Dawn, waking her up, and cried, “Make them TAKE IT OUT!!!”  She couldn’t quite tell what I was saying because I was crying so badly, but she assumed what was happening and made it to my house. 

Waiting for Dawn to arrive, I christened my sister’s front yard. 

I shall share the details of my health issues and hospital stay in Thursdays post as well. Fast forward to my first day back at work two weeks later…

“And thank you, Lord,” prayed my principal Mr. Whittlesey, “that Dana is blessed to have her sister living just upstairs to help her out in times like these.”  Seriously?  Of course, after the Amen I had to share the real story.

Chrystal really is a great sister and feels guilty she didn’t know I needed help, but that doesn’t make it any less fun to tease her about this.

Question:  Are you a “Jerry” or “Ted” and have a non-vomit record going?  Or are you more like me?

A Hot Single Turns 40

I am back at my blogging post after a brief hospital stay and recovery.  Thanks for being patient and mentioning that you missed me!

Me and Amy at her 40th Birthday
Camping Trip.

Amid fits of laughter my intensely beautiful and surprisingly funny friend waves her arm across the air like a banner and announces, “Aaaaaamy’s Fuuun and Faaaabulous Fortieth Frieeeends and Faaamily Festiiiivitiiies!!!!!”   Whee!  It became our mantra for the past few weeks looking forward to the camping trip celebrating Amy saying goodbye to her thirties. 

I say “intensely beautiful” because the men in Italy could not get enough of her.  She was even kissed by our very first waiter in Rome.  I was watching him throughout our meal and suspected he felt a little hubba hubba for our Amy.  My suspicions were confirmed when he wanted to personally escort her to the restroom, which upon her return is when he planted a juicy one on her cheek.  She was also hit on by a leather store owner as well as eyed up and down by any male with a heartbeat as she passed by. 

And she’s “surprisingly funny” because of the stereotype that beautiful women aren’t funny.  Well she is.  Funny in a sneaky, hee hee, sort of way.

Amy is a kindred spirit to me.  We both made it to 40 by “never finding a man who could stand to be as deliriously happy as we would make him.”  We are the special kind of SingleMinded people that know, though being married would be a wonderful thing, we don’t have to wait for a walk down the aisle for life to happen.

I watched her with the children of her friends attending the, “Aaaaaamy’s Fuuun and Faaaabulous Fortieth Frieeeends and Faaamily Festiiiivitiiies,” and knew she was making an impact on young lives.  I saw the respect and admiration of the husbands in attendance knowing she had built in handymen, heavy-thing-lifters and advice-givers when needed.

I also know she has a lover of her soul that fills the gap.

Being singleminded, when done well, can be Faaabulous when you have great Frieeeends and Faaamily for Fuuun Festiiivitiiiies!

Question:  Do you have an Amy in your life?

Who is in Your Flock?

John 10: 1-5   “I tell you the truth, the man who does not enter the sheep pen by the gate, but climbs in by some other way, is a thief and a robber. ² The man who enters by the gate is the shepherd of his sheep. ³ The watchman opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. ⁴ When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice. ⁵ But they will never follow a stranger; in fact, they will run away from him because they do not recognize a stranger’s voice.”

My other “hat” at school this year, in addition to my music teaching gig, is being an aide in the a.m. Pre-Kindergarten class.  Now, having been a teacher for many years I can honestly say that 4 year -old children are my least favorite age to teach.  My favorite would be 3^rd or 4^th graders.  They are old enough to know how to do things but young enough to not give you attitude because they know how to do things.

Students in Pre-K can hardly walk without falling over let alone walk in a straight line down the hall without crashing in to at least 5 or 6 other children in the process.  I keep telling the head teacher, Mrs. Sloan, it’s a good thing they are cute because if one more of them makes a break from the middle to the head of the line I’m gonna freak-out. 

We have two preciously adorable Asian girls in our class.  One speaks virtually no English and the other has enough vocabulary to get by.  She knows things like, “No.”  She is really good with that word.  Their mothers are the epitome of Asian beauty: flawless complexion and petite little bodies.  I hate them.  They are very soft spoken and watching their little daughters you would think they would be as well.  But, not to stereotype, there has got to be an elderly grandmother living with them.  The little girls will be working quietly, then turn their head towards us and holler out, full force, “TEACHA.  TEACHA.”  “My name is Miss Dana, may I help you with something.”   “TEACHA.  TEACHA.”  “Yes, we’ve established I’m your teacher, Miss Dana, what do you need?”  “TEACHA.  TEACHA.”  This goes on all morning.

On the fourth day of school we discovered one little boy REALLY wants to finish his projects.  It doesn’t matter if it is time to clean up or not, he REALLY, REALLY wants to finish what he was doing.  Or, as he very emphatically told me, over and over, “I.  Want. To.  Fini.  Shit.”  It was all I could do to keep from using my own expletives back at him, but since I’m a professional I refrained.  Not to mention it is a Christian school.

Another little girl was saying good-bye to her friend at pick up time but her friend didn’t see her open-hug-expectant-arms.  Her bottom lip began to quiver at the over-sight so I ran over and offered her a hug.  She looked up at me and smiled and I asked her if she knew my name.  “It’s Mrs. Sloan.”  I said, “No that’s the other teacher.  I’m Miss Dana.”  Her mom laughed and said her daughter had told her that her two teachers were Mrs. Sloan and Mrs. Slawn.  She was glad to clear up the confusion.

Well, my students may not know my name but they do know my voice.  The gospel of John says:  He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out.  When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice. I keep that verse in my head every morning.  When they look back at their Pre-K experience, I don’t care if they remember my name, but I do hope they remember my voice.  A voice that spoke kind words of love over them daily.  A voice that encouraged them to keep trying and do their best even if the task is difficult.  I want them to remember someone who thought they were the greatest kid ever even in the midst of being corrected.

Isaiah 40 says:   Lift your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these?

He who brings out the starry host one by one, and calls them each by name.

Because of his great power and mighty strength, not one of them is missing.

Not one of them is missing.  I may not have children of my own, but God has entrusted me with these 16 kids this year.  Mrs. Sloan and Miss Dana will treat His creations with care…even if it kills us!!

Racing to Save Lives

Luci Smith

I have a fabulous friend.  Her name is the name I would have given a daughter if I had been blessed with one.  That name is Luci.  Luci Smith to be exact.  Here's a little something about Luci.

I'm training to participate in the Nike Women's Marathon as a member of The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society's (LLS) Team In Training. All of us on Team In Training are raising funds to help stop leukemia, lymphoma, Hodgkin lymphoma and myeloma from taking more lives. I am completing this event in honor of all individuals who are battling blood cancers. These people are the real heroes on our team, and we need your support to cross the ultimate finish line - a cure.

For more information and to help, check out Luci's website.

Luci and her 2011 6th Place
Portland to Coast Team
Toe-Jammin'

Tired Tires

We’ve all heard the Women are from Venus and Men are from Mars analogy, as well as my favorite, because it involves food, Men are Waffles and Women are Spaghetti.  And of course we all know a major difference between men and women is that men are more visual than women.

Never is that point driven home more for me than when it comes to tires.  I have never had a woman mention to me that the air in my right front tire is looking low.  Or ask when was the last time I had my tires rotated.  Women do comment on what I’m wearing or notice that I’ve recently had a haircut.  But not once has a women commented on the status of my tires.  No, I leave the tire maintenance reminders up to the men in my life.

One day last week my friend Eric told me I needed to have some air put in my right rear tire.  Then on Sunday he reminded me again.  He reminded me cuz I keep forgetting to do it (kind of like remembering to change my oil).  Then Tuesday night another friend mentioned it needed some attention.  Fortunately he had a tire pump, or did he call it a compressor, at his house so he did it for me.

Neither one of the wives of these men noticed that my tires were in need of attention.  Fortunately though for me their husbands did.  So all you wives out there listen up, cook your man a nice dinner, give him a big kiss and whatever else that may lead to and say thank you.  He may not do the dishes or take out the garbage without being asked but I bet you never have to remind him to put air in your tires.

Question:  Do you procrastinate with car maintenance?

ITALY Part 3: The Cinque Terre

One of the five towns of The Cinque Terre

Other than my first day in Rome, The Cinque Terre was the first place I was actually able to move about and experience.  It is located along the Ligurian coastline and consists of five colorful villages, laid out like candy necklaces, hanging off the cliffs.  The towns don’t even seem real.  From a distance they look like little fairytale villages.  I halfway expected deformed creatures in robes to come out and greet us. 

Eddie, Amy and Linda on our boat ride.
Wish I had a pictue of the cliff jumpers...

The two things I REALLY wanted to do while there was walk the paths connecting the five towns and cliff dive into the water.  Unfortunately my knee kept me from that fun plan (Stupido!).  It was probably for the best though that I messed up my knee in Rome because if I hurt myself climbing up a 3 ½ foot pillar I can only imagine what damage I would have done jumping off a cliff.



Our Agriturismo

Our lodging arrangements were a little piece of heaven.  We stayed at an Agriturismo, which is kind of like a working farm B&B.  I highly recommend going this route.  Basically we stayed at a working winery.  How fun!!  The funniest part was that they all closed up shop and headed home in the early evening and left us free reign of the place.  But we behaved ourselves.  Except for the night Eddie taught the crowd a bunch of swear words and phrases in Italian.

It was quite an adventure finding our lodging.  But after fixing a flat tire and driving up, up, up and down, down, way down the winding, winding road two or three times, we finally found it.  It was definitely worth the effort.  Once there, I didn’t actually have to put out as much effort as Eddie, Amy and Linda because I, being on crutches and all ya know, was driven up and down the hilly path into the winery and on into village of Monterosso while the others got their cardio workouts in daily.

Our lovely veranda

We had pizza and wine in the evenings on the veranda overlooking their winery and the town of Monterosso below.  I could have stayed their all week, but alas we only had three days. 

So, in addition to Tuscany, thankfully the trails and cliffs of The Cinque Terra will also still be there in a few years.

Question:  What would you do if you found yourself unsupervised in a winery?

ITALY Part 2: The American Paziente

Italy was so “Italy” that I am planning another trip back.  One of the main reasons I want to return is because I missed quite a bit of it this time around.  You see, I am a bit of a klutz.

Amy and Linda on the
 sight-seeing bus

We had a whirlwind first day busing around Rome and visiting The Vatican.  Dinner that night was lasagna and ravioli, caprese salad (my new favorite thing in the world) and chocolate soufflé at a restaurant in the Piazza Navona.  We also had wine that cost 35 Euros which we later found in a market for only 6.90 Euros.  Can you say markup?  We chose that particular restaurant because Amy liked the red checkered tablecloths.  Afterwards we strolled through the streets and got lost in the ambiance of Rome.  I was looking forward to many more “getting lost” moments on this trip.

The Colosseum

So I began our second morning with great anticipation.  We arrived at The Colosseum and I was so excited to see where the Gladiators did their thang (Love me that Russell Crowe, I do!).  As we were walking around the exterior to get to the entrance, we came across some 3 ½ foot statue-less pillars.  Several people were standing on them being mock statues.  Wanting in on the fun, I ran over to hop on top of a pillar in back.

Well, being a chubby 50 year-old broad, just “hopping up” wasn’t exactly going to happen.  Not wanting to scratch my knees I thought I would just stretch my foot up and then hoist myself the rest of the way; which I did very successfully.  So successfully that I kept going once I reached the top.

As I was headed over the side my first thought was, “Oh, this is going to be so embarrassing!”  As I saw my backpack go flying and realized I was going down head first my next thought was, “Oh my, this is going to hurt.”  Then when my right leg came down to take it’s next step my last thought was, “Oh crap, I’ve just ruined the trip.”

The Colosseum people
wouldn't let me move

As I laid there on the ground, clutching my knee to my chest, caring English speaking (thankfully) strangers gathered around me and asked if I needed anything.  “I need my friends,” I said.  Eddie appeared on my left and I reached up and grabbed his hand; possibly breaking one or two of his fingers.  Being a former emergency room supervisor he questioned me, “Dana, I see that you are holding your right knee.  Is that where it hurts?”  How professional.  “It bent backwards when I fell,” I whimpered.  “Ooooo,” went the crowd.

As I struggled to stand up a woman from inside the Colosseum motioned with her hands and hollered something in Italian which we assumed meant, “No, stay down.  I work here and am sending someone out to help you.”  Okey-doke.  A few minutes later a nice man came out and helped me stand up.  As I sort of stood, a strange sensation came over me.  I wouldn’t exactly call it pain, even though it was painful.  I would have to label it an unpleasant, un-natural, uncomfortable, never want to feel again feeling.  Normally knees move from a bent knee to a straight leg position.  I now know what it feels like for your knee to move completely side to side.  Not pleasant, natural or comfortable.

Waiting for the ambulance

A little screech from me caused them to call an ambulance.  My brain went straight from, “But I don’t have my Kaiser card,” to, “But I have Linda.”  Senior Vice President, Chief Operating Officer, Linda.  “Not to worry,” were her comforting words.

 

Linda trying to communicate with
the ambulance drivers.
One looks like he is flipping
her off.



The ambulance arrived and out jumped three very cute Italian heroes.  Whee!!  They assessed my knee and concurred I needed to go to the hospital.  So far none of the Colosseum workers or the ambulance drivers spoke English.  Amy was busy looking up words being thrown at us in our Rick Steve’s Italian travel guide book.  When I heard, “Uno, Due, Tre,” I realized they were counting to three to switch me from the pillar to the gurney.  Unfortunately, I reacted to it too early and went up on due and came down on tre only to hear three really cute ambulance drivers go, “Umph,” and drop me back down on the pillar.  My first thought confirmed; it was going to be so embarrassing.  Well, the biggest ambulance driver laughed and pushed his partners aside and picked me up himself and plopped me safely on the gurney.  That ride alone was worth the price of the ticket.

Umph!



Since Linda was going to ride with me in the ambulance, I told Eddie and Amy to go ahead and see the Colosseum.  Being good friends they of course hopped in a taxi with the words San Giovanni Hospital given to them by the Colosseum representative.  Sadly, it got lost in translation and the taxi driver took them to an Opera House.  “Ospedale, Ospedale,” Amy kept saying.  They eventually made it to me.



Eddie and his Alpha Romeo

It was very surreal seeing the Colosseum out the ambulance windows as we drove away.  I just kept laughing, thinking this isn’t happening.  But indeed it was.  Five-ish hours later I was crammed in the backseat of a little Alpha Romeo sports car (Eddie was so cool driving that ride) to travel to Cortona, leg sprawled across Linda the entire way.  Turns out I did something to my ACL when I hyper-extended my knee.  At the time I wasn’t sure what that meant.  Now I do.  It means lots of physical therapy and then in a year or so I should be good as new.

Poor Linda

Many other crazy things ensued during those five or so hours, but suffice it to say, “I LOVE MY FRIENDS.”  I don’t know what I would have done without them.  Maybe I’ll cover those stories in another blog post someday.  It will make you laugh and appreciate your friends as well.



My perch for the week
in Tuscany

I spent the next 7 days in our Cortona home not able to get out because I couldn’t maneuver the stairs or hills of the town.  So, Assisi, Florence and the rest of Tuscany is being saved for me on another trip.  But I had a beautiful place to recoup: a lovely balcony with a gorgeous view.  And I lived vicariously through Linda, Amy and Eddie.  As well as bringing stories home every evening they also brought me food, wine and gelato.  Oh, and a beautiful wooden cross from Assisi.

So, even though I am a klutz, God worked everything out.  I was spared hitting my head on the corner of the pillar or landing head first and being paralyzed.  When I think of those alternatives, a hurt knee isn’t so bad.  So all in all, God is good and I will be fine.  Tuscany will still be there in a few years.

During this frightening, confusing and painful experience this single gal had three other single pals to rely on.  We all need that in life.  Thanks Guys!

More highlights on Thursday…

Question:  Ever been badly hurt on a vacation and had to alter your plans a bit?

ITALY Part 1: Worship in Spirit and Truth

Vatican City

I learned many things in Rome, but nothing I gleaned compares to what Eddie realized: Roma Tomatoes come from Rome.  It was like his whole world opened up when he figured that one out.  But now I’m afraid to tell him they really don’t come from Rome.  They are grown in the United States, Mexico, Australia and Great Britain.  Well, at least it was fun to say, “We’re eating Rom-ah tomatoes in Rom-ah.”  (Eddie has this theory that if you put an “ah” or “mundo” or “mento” at the end of a word you are actually speaking Italian.)



More on this next Monday...

One of the most practical things I learned in Rome was never take a header off a 3 ½ foot pedestal and break your fall with your knee going in the opposite direction God intended.  By I’m getting ahead of myself.  That is for next Monday’s post…

My favorite memory of Rome was sitting next to a nun when we attended mass at The Vatican.  She was so moved during the whole service.  It touched me.  Nuns have always been my heroes.   All the people around us were reverently taking part: heads bowed, eyes closed, whispers echoing the liturgy. When the Eucharist was presented the nun dropped to her knees with audible sighs and groans for the Holy Spirit to interpret.



St. Peter's Basilica



Worship the Lord in spirit and truth.  Who am I to judge what that looks like on the outside.  I grew up with an opening song, prayer, 3 more songs (verses 1, 2 and 4), sermon, invitation song, communion, announcements, closing song, prayer.  Sounds mundane but I can guarantee you I learned a lot about worship as a young girl watching my mother during those services.  I choose a more spontaneous form now, but that doesn’t make it better; just different.

Assisi

I regularly find myself in conversations about worship.  Being a musician I enjoy all forms of worship music.  And since God created music I’m sure He does, too.  My prayer is that we stop trying to judge other people’s worship by how it is demonstrated outwardly; in style or posture.  It’s just not our place.



Cortona
View from our balcony at sunset

The four of us had our own church services while we were there.  The first Sunday was in Tuscany.  As we sat in our big Italian kitchen, windows opened to the small, narrow, cobblestone streets of Cortona below, we wondered if the people listening around us questioned our style of worship and how, outwardly, it was so different from their own.  I hoped they enjoyed our hymns.  We did.  We had amazing 4-part harmony going!

Florence

We spent our second Sunday in the Cinque Terre.  As we sat on our back porch, this time singing more “contemporary” worship songs, the housekeeper made a trek right through our communion time to get the vacuum from the closet off of our room.  We didn’t skip a beat but laughed through the next verse or two.  I hope she was blessed.

Westminster Abbey
We had a stopover in Lodon
coming and going

So whether you’re on your knees in a solemn silence at The Vatican mass or singing “Jesus Love is a Bubblin’ Over” laughing around a campfire, I hope your thirst will be quenched, your soul satisfied and that God is honored.

Enjoy the pictures of these houses of worship. 

Question:  What does “worship in spirit and truth” mean to you?