About Me~, Uncategorized, Writing

Scrambled~

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Ferris wheels. I used to really , really love Ferris wheels. And roller coasters. I loved the up and down craziness of riding The Scrambler. The Flying Swings. Amusement parks were a ball, and I couldn’t wait to go every year with my Daddy to the company picnic to the big park and ride with him . I went with my friend James and tried to get him to go on the double looped Arkansas Twister with me, but he just stood on the ground firmly  in his wore out cowboy boots and swore that ‘s where he’d stay with his eyes closed , and pray until I was back on the ground  where I belonged .  I used to love to go to Hot Springs , Arkansas and ride the elevator up  Mountain Tower and stand 216 feet above the Ouachitas and look out over the heights and feel thrilled.

But then one day, I got very  sick. I had been pregnant, and I lost the baby . We found out it was because I had lupus .  My body turned into this alien thing that I didn’t recognize. It BECAME a Ferris wheel I couldn’t get off of. Around and around I went. I was on The Scrambler, screaming for the operator to let me off. I’m on the Arkansas Twister , but I’m stuck in between the loops, where there’s no solid ground for me to get back to. I know James is praying for me  somewhere, but I can’t get down again. The elevator refuses to take me off the Tower anymore. It’s been a long time since this horror park first started . I had a few years where I was lucky , and had a period of remission. Those were glorious times.

But the roller coaster has started back up again . I’ve had to go back on the steroids , the anti malarials, the high level Vitamin D, the major pain killers , and spent most of this week in either a state of insane insomnia, crazy fatigue, with my mouth covered in burn-like ulcers, my stomach in  toe-nail churning nausea, or  my body bent over in mind-blowing joint pain .

I no longer go to the “real” amusement park. I don’t find anything amusing in that anymore. My body is “Scrambled” enough. I am starting up the Mountain again, with a new rheumatologist. The one plus is , I really like this one, she seems to be really educated, and very compassionate. I can only pray that the view from the top of the Tower is worth this particular  ride in the elevator .

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About Me~, Uncategorized, Writing

Wings~

 

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Happiest of Tuesdays to you EveryBUDDY! I hope today finds you doing the best you can with what you have. Sometimes that’s all we can do. The best that we can. Sometimes not even that. Sometimes we can’t even give it our all. There are days we can only give it our “some”. And the perfectionist in me is learning to be okay with that. I am very blessed in that I married a man who is perfectly okay if the house is not spotless every day. I do NOT have to look like a supermodel when I roll out of the bed in the mornings. ( Thank the Good Lord above. ) He met me when I was already very ill , and married me anyway. Needless to say it pretty much all went downhill from there. If angels walk among us, I’m pretty sure he hides his under his grease stained overalls. I read  very frequently a question that gets asked on my lupus page, from many of my followers, who are just beginning their journeys with this insidious disease, the question I most dread hearing. “Does it get better?” They can usually mean a few things by this. Sometimes they mean the treatment they receive from friends and family members. As in , “Does the treatment from them get better? Will they understand? Will they be more compassionate and helpful?” I wish I could say yes. But mostly , sadly, the answer is “No.” People , in large part, don’t “Get it” unless they GET IT , and that is something we don’t really wish on anyone. Sometimes they mean , “Will my illness get better?” And the answer to that is a resounding “No. ” as well. Oh how I wish I could say, “Oh yes! The doctors are so helpful. The treatments are wonderful. And the support is great. You’ll be back to yourself in no time. ” But it’s just not true. The best I can wish for them is a period of “remission” a short respite of ease . Now for those of you reading this thinking, “Well aren’t you being a Debbie Downer today??” I don’t mean it to be! I really mean it to be positive, so that when you see someone WITH a disease like we have , you will TRULY understand how HARD we fight to STAY positive. We must make up our own minds EVERY SINGLE DAY that we are going to live to see above the trees.  EVERY minute to smile through horrible pain. Our bodies literally hate us. And no amount of King’s Men can put our Humpty Dumpty’s back together again. So we must make the best go of it that we can, and oil our flying machines.  If we seem triumphant over some small thing, please remember that maybe even walking down the hall to our bedroom was like a 10K . Standing long enough to cook spaghetti was like a marathon. Taking one of our meds off our list , is relative to soaring over  Everest. These are the measures we count our lives by. So please. Don’t take offense if we don’t seem like “our old selves”. It’s been a long , long time since some of us even remember what that was like. Smile with us in the now. You don’t have to “HAVE IT ” to “GET IT”   🙂  Our bodies might seem to  be falling apart, but our spirits are still the same on the inside.  The wings might be bent, but not broken, at least, not for long. Come fly with us.

About Me~, Uncategorized, world affairs, Writing

What’s It Really Worth?

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A million dollars. Say someone walks up to you and just gives you a million dollars . No strings attached. They don’t want anything from you, you don’t have to do anything for it, they don’t need anything from you, they just walk up to you , hand it to you , and walk away. What would you buy? Do you immediately know? Do you have a list? It’s funny isn’t it? Suddenly you have all this money , it’s yours just to blow ! I’ve had this very scenario in my head a dozen times. And you know what? I can’t think of a SINGLE thing I’d rush out and buy. Not one.It just suddenly doesn’t seem all that important anymore.  My home is paid for. It might not be what anyone else would call a mansion , but I’ve never cared about that. The land it sits on belonged to my Pappaw , who thought it the most beautiful spot of land in the world, so beautiful that he died here, which makes it worth more than money to me.  My van is paid for. It’s not new, but it goes up and down the road. That’s what cars are supposed to do , right? Take you up and down the highway? I’ve got clothes to keep me warm, clothes to keep me cool , blankets to cover up the beds, food in the icebox, a couple of old dogs to bark if company comes. My Momma and Daddy are still living, right next door.Some things money just can’t buy. There’s no price tag you can attach. To happiness. To the people you find it with. Or the memories you made with them.  I find it funny sometimes to see all those people in the magazines and on the television shows talking about how their houses cost more money than most of us will ever see in our lifetimes. More money than our entire state budgets even. Then you read that they get divorced, remarried,  and all the unhappiness that follows them. You wonder if maybe they wouldn’t be a little better to follow the advice of John Anderson in that old song “Black Sheep”.

My daddy was a brakeman on a highball traveling train
Mama she raised four little children and the family had a good name
And papa and mama wanted all for us they never had
Big brother little brother sister too none of them turned out half bad
‘Cept me I’m the black sheep of the family

Big brother went to college and became a doctor man
I guess he makes about a million dollars a year off the folks on insurance plans
He’s got a big long Mercedes Benz and a house overlooking the town
He sits in his Jacuzzi and he watches the sun go down
And he feels real sorry for me, I’m the black sheep of the family

Yeah I drive me a big ol’ semi truck I’m makin’ payments on a two room shack
My wife she waits on tables and at night she rubs my back
And I tell her what my papa said to my mama when he got off the highball train
Wake me up early be good to my dogs and teach my children to pray

Little sister married a banker yeah he owns a country club
He bought her a big ol’ racing horse and a funky lookin’ little dog
He buys her big rings and diamonds and a brand new Japanese yacht
Yeah, they like to get together and talk about all the things they’ve got
But they never mention me, naw,  I’m the black sheep of the family

Yeah, I drive me a big ol’ semi truck I’m makin’ payments on a two room shack

My wife she waits on tables and at night she rubs my back

And I tell her what my papa said to my mama when he got off the highball train,

Wake me up early be good to my dogs, and teach my children to pray.

I beg ya woman, wake me up early , be good to my dogs, and teach my children to pray.

 

Seems like maybe we could all do worse than to live our lives a little more like that.

About Me~, Uncategorized

Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah………

 

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Ha! You know those Charlie Brown voices that the adults make? For some very random reason I suddenly just thought of that. Pardon me , while my brain has some sort of extreme rollercoaster moment apparently. Heh. I do that. And I normally just spit out what I’m thinking  too. Which is sometimes funny, and occasionally horrifying, depending on where and when you are. Say if you’re in your neurologist’s office, you can cause people to move several seats down from you. Bwahaha. Oh STAHHHP. I ‘m not in the neuro’s NOW!! I’m at home. I’ve had a really kind of weird week . Well, I don’t know if it’s actually all that out of the norm for me, or if I’ve just noticed it more that the children are gone for camp. I got out of the house ( that sounded like someone holds me prisoner…….help!)    🙂     meaning, I had enough oomph to take some small walks up the lane by the house for exercise , which felt fantastic! Early enough in the morning where the heat didn’t drop me dead. Which was also great. Boys weren’t home so no loads of dirty dishes or clothes . Also big wins in the plus columns! Didn’t have to cook so hubs took me out . Even went to a new restaurant at the lake with an awesome  view where we’d never been! So of course, me feeling cheeky , what did I do, I overdid. I did, I went and overdid, and for my efforts ended up with a fantastically lovely aural migraine last night. Oh yeah. The flashing lights, the nausea, blind in one eye, near seizure level.  But do you want to know what I meant when I said I had kind of weird week? I could feel it working up to it. That’s the bizarre part. You know the poem I wrote for my blog yesterday? Anytime I am about to have a seizure, or any type of big neurological event, I can write poetry, I can write on my blog, I can paint, I can draw, be creative for a certain period of time. And then afterwards I’ll be exhausted. You can feel it coming,  and there’s nothing you can do to stop it, and of course it’s worse since the stroke so  I’m taking all the meds the doctors say to take.  I suppose there’s nothing left to do for it. Anywho. Feeling very tired today after all that . Slept for about four hours total yesterday. Completely wiped now. Just wanted to check in with all my peeps. This was really too long to write on my lupus page so wanted to post it here for everyone. Oh, and if no one has said it today, I LOVE YOU!! with all my ❤ and 🙂 and as always ((HUGS)) ~ RUBY J.

About Me~, Uncategorized, world affairs, Writing

I Ain’t Never Read Where It Says THAT….

You know I’ve got to thinkin’ about somethin’ over the last couple o’ days. ( People shakin’ their heads already, I hear yore marbles rollin’. Lord help us yore a’ thinkin!) Well, you know , I DO GET to thinkin’ occasionally. AND I got to thinkin’ about that sayin’ , “Well, I’m happy if you’re happy. ” And it occurred to me, I think that might be just about the single biggest load of rot I’ve ever heard in one sentence. Well, seriously. Think about it. Think about a time YOU , yourself have ever used that phrase . Was it ever in a situation when you were ever GENUINELY happy for said person? It wasn’t was it? It was more of a, “Lord have mercy, how did they get into that mess, I am just going to shake my head and say, ‘Well, I’m happy , if you’re happy.” But WHY?!? Who came up with such a stupid expression!?? When kids are two years old and want to get a blue mohawk and a nose ring you do NOT say yes, and say “Well, I’m happy if you’re happy.” Why? Because they’re TWO dadgum years old for cryin’ out loud! When they are ten and want to drive a car down the open highway while drinkin’ an alcoholic beverage, You don’t say Sure. I’m happy if you’re happy. Why not? Well for one thing it’s “agin”  the law, and for another they’re TEN YEARS OLD!!  So let me ask a genuine question. When did it become a normal thing to say, “I’m happy if you’re happy .” to someone you care about doing something equally as stupid? They wanna’ get drunk every weekend and drive themselves around, but sure we’re happy as long as they are. They wanna’ get married 9 times in a row , and wreck the lives of everyone around them, but hey why not? They’re happy , right? And I understand that people are “grown” .They can make their OWN decisions and don’t need my “input”.  I get that. They’re adults. Well, then you know what ? They oughta’ ACT like it. And I don’t reckon ANYWHERE in the Bible did I read it promises we DESERVE to be happy all the time. I ain’t never  read  where it says that.

About Me~, Uncategorized, Writing

A Bible, a Bogg, and a Blessing ~

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It’s been a crazy couple of weeks here the last couple of weeks, at our house. We’ve been getting ready for “Bogg Week”. For those of you scratching your heads just now, that’s Arkansas Southern Baptist speak for Bogg Springs Baptist camp week. A whole week of craziness that requires packing enough clothes for two teenagers that seemingly turns into enough clothes for an army. Yet somehow they return home with clothes for not even ONE child. They go clean , excited, and revved. They decamp; dirty, tired, but spiritually revived, and having made new friends. I know a lot of people think how great it is to have their kids gone from their house . Well, let me tell you. I am NOT one of them. I enjoy their noise, I enjoy the energy that their big growing teenage bodies fill our house with. I do NOT enjoy knowing that they are not here down the hall in their room; THAT  is a very empty feeling indeed. So my bedside Bible has been a particular comfort these last couple of days. As they are 15 and 17 , I know soon enough they will make career choices that will take them far away from me. I WILL be happy, I SWEAR!! 🙂 I will be proud! It will mean I have done what I set out to do , those very short years ago, to send them out clean, excited , and revved. And to let them know , it’s always okay, to come home and decamp; dirty, tired, so that you can spiritually revive. Home should always be like that . It is your greatest blessing. I know mine still is. Today , finding myself in need of a little bit of that refreshment myself, I hied myself up the hill to the shade of the old oak  and rocked with my Daddy awhile. So whether it’s the Bible, the Bogg, the old oak, or wherever you find yourself today, don’t forget you CAN still  find your refreshment in God today.

About Me~, Uncategorized, Writing

My Way, or the Highway………

 

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Commercial advertising these days has become somewhat of a conundrum for me lately.  On the one hand, I think some of the creativity is quite hysterical. The little mini -pony who is shunned by the bigger horses, so his owner orders him a “pony-door”, so he might enter the house ,  thereby rendering his larger pony buddies jealous. Or the long-running gag of the pistachio consortium with celebrities  saying things like , “Ms. Piggy does it like a diva.” But, humor being few and far between, I have noticed a disturbing trend lately.  Commercials more and more often , “man bash“. The advertising execs in these  companies  seem to think that the way to get a woman to buy a product ( ANY PRODUCT!) , is to make the  male of the species feel as though he were nothing more than  a single -celled amoeba on the bottom of the gene pool.  In the first instance I call to you attention the commercial for dishwasher packets . The kindly husband has gone to the store and done the shopping, bringing home the “wrong” brand of detergent. His wife then proceeds to tell him all the reasons WHY he was wrong for getting “THAT” brand, until he meekly says, “I’m going back to the store , aren’t I?”  to which she says, “Yes. Yes you are.” Not one thank you did he get for going shopping in the first place, nor did his wife say, I should have been more specific about what kind we needed. NO. It was automatically the man’s fault, and he was made to look stupid. Another of this type of commercial that is  going around is the one where the husband is changing the baby’s diaper on top of the kitchen counter. Again the woman rolls her eyes, and makes a big show of using a cleaner to wipe off the counter. This type of sexism is not limited to commercials for adults either. If you ever have time to just sit and really pay attention to the advertisements , it seeps into the products for children as well. On a certain peelable orange companies commercials, little girls are blatantly allowed to mean to their little brothers, where if this behavior were reversed, there’d be an uproar! It’s everywhere in society, seemingly parents teaching their girls younger and younger, that “Boys are stupid.”  “ Girls are better.” And why shouldn’t they teach their daughters that, this generation of women seems to feel that way themselves.  I’ve heard women speak about their husbands in ways that I found totally shocking. “Why bother asking your husband to do it, he’ll just screw it up anyway?”  , “There’s no way I’d send my husband to the store, he’d never get the shopping right. , “He tried to fold the laundry for me the other day, and it was a joke. I had to completely refold it.” It has to be their way or the highway, and heaven forbid their husband have a different opinion than theirs, or they will run him over like three-legged dog.   Where is all this blatant disrespect for men coming from? Whatever happened to being proud of your mate, and letting him know he’s appreciated for what he does? Listening to HIS thoughts and ideas, and using his input?  Of course he’s not “perfect“, but last time I checked , these “ladies” runnin’ their mouths off , weren’t paragons of perfection themselves!  How much better would our relationships be if we gave credit where credit was due, ” Thanks babe, for getting the soap at the store.” or,  “I sure appreciate you taking the time to fold the clothes. ”  What’ s really more important, that it was done  “the RIGHT way”, or that it was done with love?  And it doesn’t hurt to brag on your husband to someone else every now and again. I know I was blessed by the Good Lord above with my husband.  He might not BE perfect, but he’s perfectly suited to me,  and I want everyone to know that I am proud to call him mine!