I have always prided myself on being an old dog that is capable of being taught new tricks but abandoning my “A Carillon Christmas” sleep schedule has been a feat I’ve not yet tackled.
I woke promptly at 7 AM, fed and pottied the dogs, drank a cup of coffee, and fell right back to sleep. I had scheduled myself to begin working on the front hall closet at 9 AM and here it is Noon and I’ve been awake since 11 AM. Rats! I have been working long into the evening so I guess that’s what I shall be doing for today’s schedule.
Kristine Comunale gave me this nifty dog calendar for Christmas and the first photo, December 31st, looked just like Bailey who is my very own pillow snuggler.
My goal is to post a photo each day; however, it may be short-lived as I often forget about these things. I’ve only watched a handful of television series all the way through.
While purging through so many books in my front room, I ran across three books with significant attachments.
The Lincoln book was purchased in 1974 and at some point, my sister, Dena, 8 1/2 years younger than me, decided to add her own artwork to the front.
The Founding Fathers book was purchased in 1973 and at the very top you can faintly see my signature.
In 1974, while traveling to Norfolk, Virginia, to see my uncle in the Navy, my grandparents and I stopped at Monticello, my very first visit to Thomas Jefferson’s home. I purchased this book from the gift shop.
There is a steady rain against a backdrop of dull, gray skies and 61 degrees which intends to climb only two more notches by the afternoon.
I promptly woke at 6:50 AM after seven hours of uninterrupted sleep – save when Bailey rose to get comfortable while burrowed next to my chest. The dogs were fed and pottied within ten minutes and then I was Zooming with my son in London over my breakfast and his lunch.
I asked Josh’s view on how to improve my coffee’s flavor. I vacillate between Folgers and Maxwell House simply because they are affordable and not fluffed up with various flavors. Now, don’t get me wrong; I do love flavored coffee that’s not an astronomical expense as I tend to avoid branded coffee stores. Aside from a few specialty coffee purchases at Tuesday Mornings, I am a basic coffee guy. However, my coffee just never has an uplifting flavor.
Several years back, the Melin family gave me a pour-over that I love and use once or twice throughout the week. They also gifted me a Braun coffee maker which is wonderful. I just need to find the right coffee. I am not interested in a French press like Josh and Dave have, nor any of their luxurious coffee. I am not knowledgeable enough about the art of coffee making and it’s not a topic I wish to embed myself. I just want my coffee, like many of my home-prepared meals, to be more enjoyable. I suppose I need to be more passionate about coffee making and cooking. Alas, I am not as I find both to be uninteresting and a waste of time.
This morning, I am working on purging and reorganizing my study. I have a Zoom appointment/interview at 11 AM, and then I will join Mama Kay and several others for Taco Tuesday at El Toro, our weekly haunt. I had exchanged a holiday-schedule night off from teaching for December 20th so I could be at The Park for the last push to Christmas; therefore, I will get to see some regular Tuesday students this afternoon and evening. I won’t Zoom with my Wyoming and California students as I was home early enough on December 20th to have lessons.
On with the purging and organizing… and figuring out how to enjoy my own coffee.
Each of my five sons benefitted from school lunches when their birth parents didn’t provide regular meals for them at home. My eldest son depended on school lunches and often they were the only meals he got throughout the week.
The sunshine that graced us for several days has flown leaving us with the dullest of grayness spread above. The temperature is currently 27 degrees and is only expected to climb four more notches where it will remain throughout tomorrow. Friday, a high of 55 degrees will be here but we are forecast with rain all day which will put a huge damper on the final day of “A Carillon Christmas” and barring “The Midnight Express” train which will not operate with rain.
I began feeling run-down last night and took an Airborne chewy when I got home. I just need to hold on for a few more days with maintained energy. I am at The Park today and all evening. At 2:30 PM, I shall take a break and travel to St. Mary’s Church to see the nativity with Mama Kay. We had tried to do so several years back, but the church was not open.
My eldest nephew, Jon, son of my younger sister, Dena, is twenty-five years old, today. Jon was named after his maternal great-great grandfather, John William Garrett Clary who died a few months before Jon’s birth. These past twenty+ years, Jon has been a tremendous bridge in helping us understand autism and how to better communicate. Our family eagerly jumped in to connect our worlds and to join Jon’s remarkable journey.
I found this “memory post” on Facebook 9 years ago after The Sisters, Bailey and Harrigan, had been with us for two days.
December 27, 2013
Harrigan & Bailey… Here are a few rules…
Yes, I know you leak, chew & are all about ‘the play’ right now. I get that.
However…
1) Bailey – please take your barking down 3 octaves; I did not name you Bieber
2) Harrigan – Do not – and I repeat – DO NOT bite me on the butt, again – ever!
3) Bailey – if Harrigan can make it up the stairs, you can too; stop standing down there crying for me to come get you, because you know I will
4) If Chief growls at you to leave him alone, do it
5) Thank you for letting me sleep from 11:00 PM – 7:00 AM; I really needed the sleep; however, attacking one another on top of me is not a good way to wake me
We’re gonna have a great day. Time to learn our first commands in German! Sehr gut!
Make it a great day!
PHOTO: My nephew, Jonathan “Jon” William Garrett Surber
Tonight is my 59th Christmas Eve. I do not recall the first several occasions, but I’ve been blessed with a strong memory that can retrieve moments from most Christmases following 1967.
Growing up in the 1960s and 1970s, our Christmas festivities were like those we now see in black-and-white movies or television shows. There was a traditional recipe that was meticulously and exhaustingly performed, and each year was recognizable as the process and patterns seldom changed. There were a lot of Norman Rockwell scenes with a splash of Donna Reed and Mamie Eisenhower.
Trimming the large house on the hill at the corner of Main and Ninth Streets was no exception to the prescribed formula. The tree was decorated identically to the previous year, save for the newly created school photo ornament which was added and compared to previous ornaments. My grandparents’ tree was far more to my liking as it was comprised of ornaments of family history. Our tree’s decorations were still new and without much history.
Mother was very innovative and graced the season with many homemade decorations. My favorites were the thirty-plus crocheted and spray-starch stiffened snowflakes that were hung against the heavy forest green draperies in the long rectangular living and music room.
Aprons and other festive linens, many of which included cross stitch or needlepoint decorative designs, were retrieved from cedar and hope chests. The white hobnail ashtrays in the living room were replaced with ceramic ones of hand-painted Santa Clauses, a Christmas tree, and a snowman. Christmasy candy and nut dishes took their respective places on the coffee and end tables.
Familiar aromas swept through the house as the baking commenced. Grandma Donna was the true baker of the family and fortunately, this was overtaken by my sister when she grew older. Fresh sprigs of evergreen pierced the air as did the scented votive candles on the mantle. Mother always purchased an evergreen spray made specifically for artificial trees.
The holiday greeting cards began arriving about the second week of December with mostly business greetings and advertisements coming after Thanksgiving.
In Sunday school, the anticipated stories were repeated, and the Christmas section of the hymnal was used. To my recollection, Advent and Epiphany were not highlighted and the entire focus was on the nativity narrative.
The week before Christmas, our friends and neighbors began exchanging fruit bowls/baskets, homemade delights, candles, and other seasonal gifts. For over thirty years, Mother still used the beautiful wicker tray, filled with holly and ribbons, and a large, globed candle as a dining room table centerpiece, a much-beloved gift from my band director, Paula Simmons.
We also squeezed in the holiday gatherings for extended family. At some point, we drove up to Dewart Lake for dinner with my great-grandfather, Virgil Barmes, and his second wife. I also recall meals and gift exchanges at my paternal Richardson relatives. In later years, my great-aunt and uncle, Evelyn (Grandpa Leroy’s sister) and Dewey Smith began hosting a Barmes family pre-Christmas rally.
Grandma Donna and Mother spent a good amount of time uptown shopping. Heading out of town to Anderson, Indiana’s Mounds Mall or one of the three major shopping malls in Indianapolis was a huge, single event. We had everything we needed in the multiple stores in Elwood’s business district or in the stores of T-Way Shopping Center on the southern side of town.
Christmas Eve arrived, and there was always a late family lunch with my grandparents, uncles, Grandma Donna’s parents, Garrett and Belle Clary, and Grandma’s sister and brother-in-law, Joyce and Rod Riser. Joyce and Rod’s daughters arrived two and six years after me. This meal was the formal Christmas ham dinner prepared by Grandma Donna.
I do not ever remember attending Christmas Eve services in my younger years. I highly suspect our church, Trinity Evangelical United Brethren, later Trinity United Methodist Church, did not offer them because I am certain we would have been in attendance.
After spending time at my Clary great-grandparents, or my father’s parents, Rosemary and Adam Mroz, my step-grandfather, we returned to either our home or my grandparents’ home for the opening of immediate family gifts, followed by lunch left-overs, making ham sandwiches from dinner. For me, this was always the highlight as there was an intimacy of just having my parents, grandparents, and uncles, sometimes, my Clary great-grandparents, in one place.
The following morning was a traditional family breakfast with my parents, maternal grandparents, uncles, and any available friends and neighbors before the formal Christmas dinner and celebration. The Christmas breakfasts disappeared for several years but were revived after Mother married my stepfather (adoptive father). My sister, Dena, who can single-handedly and eagerly cook for an army, later hosted these breakfasts to a massive level that included many family members, neighbors, family friends, on-duty police officers and firefighters, and anyone else who happened to be in the neighborhood.
Those later Christmas breakfasts highlighted our family’s maxim of “family is whoever walks through the front door.”
Grandma Donna died in June 1992, and several of our customary events died with her. That following Christmas, the three of us asked Mother if we could forgo the traditional Christmas Eve ham dinner.
“Sure,” she said. “What do you want me to fix?”
My brother piped up with “lasagna.” Lasagna was a Christmas Eve dinner feature for the next eight years.
For many Christmas Eves, I was either singing for services or serving as a director of music for churches and would not arrive in Elwood until 3 AM. In those years, we altered the routine so that we were all together.
When I began adopting my sons, they were absorbed into my family’s traditions but as time went on, we began adopting our own traditions. Perhaps, “tradition” is not a correct description as it often changed as our family changed with time.
In 2000, my eldest son, Mother, and I found ourselves without anything to do on Christmas Eve. I was not directing a church music program, and my siblings, now married, were with their extended families. Mother suggested we go out to eat but nothing was open in Elwood. I aimed the silver Chevy Lumina south on IN-37 toward Noblesville and Indianapolis, hoping our luck of finding an open restaurant would improve. Near the intersection of highways 37 and 32, we discovered a Chinese buffet. For the next fourteen years, Chinese buffets were our standard Christmas Eve dinner. Several of those fares were joined by my sister and her two eldest sons, Jon and Andrew.
My Christmas Eves are now relaxed and uneventful. I prefer this way as I no longer fancy the traditional anxiety of planning, celebrating, and darting from place to place. Christmas Day dinners are now spent with Mama Kay, her daughter, Laura, Laura’s children, cousin Joyce, and Laura’s dad and stepmother, John & Janice Moore and it is the most satisfying gathering of my new-found traditions. After Christmas 2019, I spent the day with my sister and her family, but that hope for a new tradition was brought to an abrupt halt by the pandemic. I am hopeful to see them following the holidays and “A Carillon Christmas.”
Fifty-eight years have supplied me with a smorgasbord of rituals, some long-lived, and others short. While I treasure those time-honored Christmases of my childhood, I do not miss them nor wish to replicate them in any measure. The preparation and strain would be wildly fatiguing. Even Mother once observed that we should just get together more throughout the year and not compress so much into the holidays.
Yesterday was Bailey and Harrigan’s GOTCHA Day, celebrating nine years of being with The Haasienda. I retrieved them from Tylersville Road around 10 PM, Christmas Night, 2013, four days following Navi’s tragic death. Chief and I needed these little gals.
Christmas Day was spent at Laura’s with Mama Kay, Jozi, John Moore (Janice was not feeling up to it), Kelley, and his girlfriend. We had a delicious dinner, snacks, desserts, and lots of chat time. I returned home to Zoom with Joshua for a short while. I had Zoomed at 7 AM with Joshua, David, and Dave’s parents, Anne and Phil with several of Dave’s siblings popping their faces into the camera’s range to say, “Merry Christmas.”
I am beginning my first of five last days for “A Carillon Christmas.” My body is cooperating as much as it can but my sinuses are revolting. With three days away from The Park, I could not collect enough sleep.
I am terribly behind in answering my personal emails but I got all of Sunday’s 28 text messages answered last night and this morning.
It should be hitting 40 degrees this afternoon with 50 degrees for Thursday and a rainy 55 degrees for Friday. Sunday will begin the new year and it promises to be 56 degrees.
There is little to report, today. It’s already been slightly busy and it is now time to prepare for The Park. It should be a much better, busier evening with the train running.
“The Year” by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
What can be said in New Year rhymes, That’s not been said a thousand times?
The new years come, the old years go, We know we dream, we dream we know.
We rise up laughing with the light, We lie down weeping with the night.
We hug the world until it stings, We curse it then and sigh for wings.
We live, we love, we woo, we wed, We wreathe our prides, we sheet our dead.
We laugh, we weep, we hope, we fear, And that’s the burden of a year.
The weather cooperated with great, comfortable temperatures, and The Guests could not have been more jovial and kind, even when lines were not short. I had a terrific team tonight with a regular staff person, Mary; Campbell from Oakwood High School; and the brother/sister team, Doris and Jason, from Beavercreek High School. It flowed smoothly due to their hard work.
There were three occasions where I had some tears when I was visited by former student, Mitchell Goecke, who I also held as a baby; The Stamper Family who brought with them Gwen’s boyfriend (impressed!); and all the way from California, film composer Erick DeVore and his wife, Stephanie, and Erick’s parents, dear friends, Duneen and Ron
Wow! It was the heavy hitters of former students and still much beloved families. I’m still a bit choked up.
I learned from my Canine Crew member, Beck, that we were without power earlier in the evening. Some friends assured me the lights are back on.
Tomorrow is the last evening for “A Carillon Christmas” that began November 22. I’m happy the life schedule will return to what I knew one month ago but I will miss the routine, a little, as well as the folks with whom I got to work, many of which were strangers at the start. I believe I feel more triumphant as I went into this new venture with trepidation of the physical requirements. Yes, there were many, but I DID IT.
I. Did. It.
Bus No. 18 is nearing the downtown terminal and I will hop on No. 17 southbound to The Haasienda where I will be greeted by The Quartet and blinking clocks.
What a winning day this was! A great Roundhouse Cafe team and feeling such love from the three sets of visitors!
PHOTOS: The DeVore Family; The Stamper Family; Mitchell Goecke; night shots.
It’s overcast but unseasonably warm at 53 degrees with an upcoming low of 51 degrees. I had the doors open to freshen up the house. It will be the perfect night for train rides at The Park.
One of my key crew members in The Roundhouse Cafe had to call off.
I had intended to write more but I built the shift plan, stations, and cleanup and it is now redone so my blog time has been cut short.
It was hectic tonight in The Roundhouse Cafe but we had no cocoa machine malfunctions as we did Tuesday night. This. Is. A. Good. Thing.
Tonight, I was fortunate to have Toni, a nursing major at University of Cincinnati; Jason, a junior swimmer from Beavercreek High School; and Jane, who has been a fairly regular staff member. These three were the bomb diggity and made the cafe run with great smoothness.
My friend, Chuck Johnson, came down to see me for a few minutes. Chuck was Volunteering in Deeds’ Barn (replica) for the evening. He outlined for me his incredibly busy day which was being topped off with four hours at The Park. What an inspiration!
Tomorrow is Thursday and will leave us with three more days of this year. I don’t know if I shall miss this year, or not. It’s been an interesting one.
And with that, I’m ready to transfer from No. 18 North to No. 17 South which will land me right in front of The Haasienda.
Mama Kay and I went to St. Mary’s Church in East Dayton to see the interior and their annual nativity. We had tried a year before the pandemic struck but the church wasn’t open. This was Mama Kay’s first time to see the nativity scene since she was a girl.
And what a nativity scene it is!
The church, itself, is outstanding, gorgeous, and impressive. But that nativity scene was beyond belief.
Back at The Park, it was nonstop with Guests coming through despite the train ride being closed. I got to work with Jane, again, and she’s always a joy to be around.
No. 17 is just crossing Stewart Street and nearing the big turn into the University of Dayton route before turning onto Shroyer Road for the final push to The Haasienda. I’m ready for bed. My legs feel like tingly pin cushions and I’m just tuckered out.
The sun is not to be held back this fine Christmas Day, even with the temperature currently set at 8 degrees. It looks refreshing but is still very cold.
Sleep came upon me quite effortlessly and it was a peaceful night.
Erma stood in the middle of the bedroom for a long while, finally settling on the floor for sleep. This morning, she seems a bit better but still not quite herself. The old girl was first out of the gate to breakfast, rested the remainder of the morning with the rest of us, and sat by my side to collect her morning milk when my cereal was eaten.
I could sleep another eight hours. Finding the button to alleviate the tired spot seems unreasonable. Tomorrow is the starting line for the final five days of “A Carillon Christmas” and my responsibility to The Roundhouse Café. It’s been a gratifying event in many ways, but it was not without testing my stamina. I feel proud in having endeavored and accomplished the long course given my bodily restrictions.
It is time to shower, dress, and prepare myself for the few-blocks trip to Laura’s home. I am excited to spend some time with my favorite folks, although Michael and his family remain in North Carolina and Mama Kay’s niece, Joyce, is sick and will not be joining us. I still miss Don’s boisterous laughter and entertaining remarks.
Make it a merry Christmas and make it a great day!
My thermostat reads 70 degrees, but it still feels slightly chilly in my study. The Quartet is scattered about, resting from their incredibly busy day of sleeping, eating, and going out to potty.
Erma seems better though slightly anxious and appearing disoriented. She is no longer panting (as often and as hard) and pacing, she continues to eat and drink lots of water and reacts to my voice, but she continues to stand, staring at nothing.
My vegetables and dip are prepared for tomorrow’s dinner at Laura’s, and I still need to make my cheesecake. Other than that, I am prepared to continue watching documentaries and reading.
My rash of cabin fever is genetic. I’m convinced of it. Both Mother and her father, Grandpa Leroy, braved weather conditions to go on adventures. Mother’s last few years alive, she was less adventurous and a bit anxious, whereas Grandpa Leroy was in the go until death overtook him.
I boarded northbound No. 17 nat 11:40 AM and was amazed that I rarely saw pavement the entire route that lasted 45 minutes. At first, I figured it was just Kettering but Far Hills Avenue (Main Street & OH 48) were not entirely cleared. North Dixie was actually worse.
The bus driver was bold but cautious, oft taking the lead in the minimal amount of traffic that was present. The final stop, at Walmart, was frightening with the filled parking lot. I
knew my dining haunt would be packed and that I might need to wait for a table. However, to my great surprise, the parking lot was not full, nor was the restaurant. The wait-staff said they’d been prepared for much larger crowds even with the current weather conditions. I doubled my usual tip since I was sure my server would not see much in the way of tips. He and the other staff were tripping over themselves to be accommodating.
I hand-wrote my original entry but unceasing aches in my hands were making my handwriting unattractive and probably needing much effort to read. I did have a slice of red velvet cake, a former family tradition of nearly 100 years.
Walmart’s parking lot was full but the store didn’t seem crammed. I easily found all my items and was checked out with twenty minutes to spare for the next No. 17. I do love having No. 17 that can take me from one end of Dayton to the other and still pick me up and drop me off in front of The Haasienda. My needs are few so this route, even though aggravating with two particular tardy drivers, is both a convenience and a blessing.
It’s 3:05 PM and I am satisfied with today’s accomplishments though few they be. I’m all prepared for tomorrow’s dinner gathering at Laura’s as well as the five remaining days in The Roundhouse Cafe as “A Carillon Christmas” winds down.
PHOTO: The intersection at North Dixie & Needmore with snow covered pavements.
The rain has moved into The Miami Valley in advance of the dreadful weather conditions to reach us in the early hours of Friday. I cannot keep track of the changing forecast, nor all the issues included save the incredibly low temperatures which will drop, Friday morning, from 22 degrees at midnight to 8 degrees by 2 AM and -6 degrees by 8 AM.
I truly hope The Park will be closed as the temperatures will be 1 degree at 2 PM, rising to 3 degrees before falling to -3 degrees the remainder of the evening. Plus, I would just like to have an additional day to myself. I am tired and having Friday, Saturday, and Sunday to myself would be wonderful.
While I slept soundly last night, my body was wracked with pain in all four limbs, and I experienced an MS “hug” before 6 AM. I’ve not had a “hug” for quite some time, but I suspect the stress and tiredness encourage it.
MS HUG: also known as “banding” or “girdling,” is a symptom of MS that feels like an uncomfortable, sometimes painful feeling of tightness or pressure, usually around the stomach or chest. The pain or tightness can stretch all around the chest or stomach, or it can be just on one side.
It’s now 2 PM and it is nearing the time to get ready for bus anxiety! I have not been late for work but the lack of commitment to staying on schedule is exasperating.
I hope everyone stays safe during this blast of wicked wintery weather.
The sun has been with us all morning and into the afternoon, though a bit obscured by the overcast sky. Thursday, we are promised rain all day which could interfere with the train rides at The Park. I hope not. Midnight Friday it will be 29 degrees and will plummet to -6 degrees by 8 AM only rising to 1 degree. I am not hopeful for an evening in my usual nightly digs.
The impending rain is torturing my muscles and my sinus pressure while my gut issue is causing physical discomfort. I slept well through last night I am dragging. I am confident I will regain energy once I am at The Park but the preparation for today is laborious.
I discovered Katherine Jenkins and love her “Sanctus” which is a vocal tribute to Elgar’s “Nimrod” from THE ENIGMA VARIATIONS, No. 38. Gorgeous!
Make it a great day…
Lyrics:
Sanctus Sanctus, Dominus Deus Sabaoth Pleni sunt caeli et terra gloria tua
Sanctus Sanctus, Dominus Deus Sabaoth Pleni sunt caeli et terra gloria tua
Hosanna Hosanna in excelsis
Benedictus Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini Domini
Sanctus Sanctus, Dominus Deus Sabaoth Pleni sunt caeli et terra gloria tua
It’s been a dull, wearisome day between the horrendous weather, Erma’s current health, and my gut issues. I detest not being able to go out to explore on a free day, but I had no business going out in the weather and with my stomach waging war; plus, Erma is calmer when I am beside her with my hand on her.
The stories I have been reading about the weather and folks traveling are incredible. Several friends are having furnace problems and several others are reporting their travel woes.
I have listened to a number of documentaries, napping in sparse intervals. I am listening to CSPAN’s presidential “Life Portrait” series for several weeks and tonight I am learning more about James Buchanan. The series first aired around 1999 but is still fascinating studies.
All four pooches are with me in my study. Erma’s condition is unchanged.
In closing, I am sharing Robert Frost’s, “Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening”
Whose woods these are I think I know. His house is in the village though; He will not see me stopping here To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer To stop without a farmhouse near Between the woods and frozen lake The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound’s the sweep Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.
This deceptively simple poem is by Robert Frost (1874 – 1963). He wrote it in 1922 in a few moments after being up the entire night writing a long and complicated poem. The poem uses an AABA rhyme scheme. The repetition of the last line emphasizes the profundity contained in the last stanza, a popular reading for funerals.
One week from today we bid farewell to 2022. I find it amazing how fast the years move by the older I get.
I slept in small chunks throughout the night as I sat with Erma. When I did attempt to sleep, Erma’s panting was loud and her constant movement kept summoning the motion sensor light to the room’s entrance. She was anxious until about 5:30 AM when she suddenly calmed down and laid down in the kitchen. Erma ate her breakfast and was immediately out the deck door with the others. Right now, all four are sleeping here in my bedroom.
I’m tired and restless. I want to sleep but not physically comfortable enough to make it happen.
Mid morning, Erma began exhibiting the same symptoms from last summer: anxious, walking in circles, restless, panting. She did eat her lunch and will sometimes wag her tail when I talk to her.
Erma finally came into the study to lie down and is snuggled next to Chief.
Through many years of sharing my life with dogs, I’m always amazed at their inane ability to sense something getting ready to happen.
Now, so many things were natural. Flyer, and all those who’ve followed her, knew sons and students were ready to burst through the door after hearing the school buses pull into the high school parking lot right next door to us. When I get off of the bus, almost in front of the house, I hear the dogs barking upon hearing the loud beeps from the Dayton RTA.
One time-telling gage that’s impressed me is the dogs knowing, each day, when it’s time to eat based on which student is finishing up a lesson each day.
Liz Bryant posted this fantastic article which explains a lot of things I’d never considered. It also points out how we, as humans also use smell to know the time.
I woke before 7 AM and decided to go ahead and feed the dogs.
I went to open the storm/screen door to the deck and the handle was frozen. I went to the kitchen door that leads to the side porch and its handle was also frozen. I returned to the deck door in my bedroom and after several more minutes of wiggling the handle, I grabbed the hair blow dryer, thankful I had held onto it all these years despite never needing it. After a few minutes, the door handle opened.
Five minutes later, I went to let the dogs back inside and the handle was already frozen again. I had already put the blow dryer away.
The blow dryer is not going back into the hall closet for a while.
The train rides at The Park were cancelled tonight due to the rain and the entire Park is closed Friday. The Roundhouse Cafe still received a respectable number of Guests.
I got to spend the time with Sam, the former Oakwood High School graduate who is a finance major at Miami University. Between Guests we had some cool conversations. Amy Kress stopped by to chat; we’ve not seen one another for several months now that Sarah is driving herself to voice lessons.
A friend from The Park drove me home and it was nice getting home forty-five minutes earlier to have time to prep some soup for a late supper. I attended to some items before retreating to my bedroom where I crawled under the covers before The Sisters piled onto the bed before scooting under the covers.
I’ve not looked outside but have seen a number of photos on social media. Someone from Kettering posted they had lost their power about an hour ago but when I checked back to see the progress, the post was gone. I do hope those who serve us in the utilities and street maintenance are safe throughout this storm.
I’ve three days to my self, save the time I will spend Christmas with Laura, her children, Mama Kay, and John & Janice Moore, Laura’s dad and stepmother.
My first documentary is completed and I’m eager to begin the next one to which I will probably fall asleep.
“Getting worn out and run down robs you of receiving what you need from the universe.”
Our natural state of being is vibrant, happy to be alive. Yet, there can be times when we feel run down and worn out. This does not mean that we are lazy or unfit for the tasks in our lives; it means that we need to recharge our batteries and find a way of keeping them charged. Vitamins and extra rest can be very helpful in restoring our physical bodies. And if we are willing to delve deeper, we may discover that there is an underlying cause for our exhaustion.
Whenever you are feeling run down, take an honest look at how you have been thinking, feeling and acting. You will likely find a belief, behavior pattern or even a relationship that is out of alignment with who you really are. Perhaps you believe you have to be perfect at everything or you have been bending over backwards to get people to like you. Maybe you are dealing with mild depression or simply have too much on your plate right now. There may also be people or situations in your life which are draining your energy. Once you get clear on the root cause, you can weed it out and better direct your flow of energy in the future.
In time, you might notice that the reasons you feel run down have less to do with how much you are doing and more to do with the fact that in your heart, you would rather be doing something else entirely. From now on, try and listen to what your heart really wants. It may take meditation, or just a moment of silent tuning in to gain the clarity you need, but it is well worth the effort. When you know what you truly want to do, and honor that in all situations, you will find that getting run down is a thing of the past.
The Haasienda on Shroyer... 